Father and Son
by EsmeAmelia
Summary: COMPLETE. An AU fic in which Anakin and Padme adopt baby Han. How will this reshape the destinies of the characters?
1. Chapter 1

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: I own nothing Star Wars related and make no money off of this story (but why would I be posting it on the internet if I could sell it as a book?). Well, this AU idea has been nagging me for quite some time now, but I was waiting until I finished my big epic "My Mother" to start working on it. However, now that "My Mother" is on its way to being finished, I thought it was safe to start work on another epic.

And before I get any reviews commenting on this, yes, I KNOW Han is older in the canon than he is in this fic. This is an AU fic, where some of the canon elements are changed, one of which being Han's age. Kay?

_Corellia, soon after the start of the Clone Wars._

Anakin didn't know why he was here. He should be fighting the Separatists, not watching one of them be sentenced. Why should a Jedi be witness to an execution? But for some reason, the chancellor had thought it important and appointed Anakin to represent the Jedi at this event. Palpatine had mentioned that it would be a growing experience for Anakin.

He shifted in his seat, trying to eliminate the twist in his stomach. Why was he feeling this way - after all, he had seen people die before. Quite a few, actually, including his mother...

His mother...

He swallowed, squirming with greater intensity, wishing that they would just finish these pre-execution speeches and get this over with. Looking at the prisoner standing in the center of this arena was giving him a strange feeling in his nerves.

Her hands and feet were bound, but she continued to scowl, shifting her piercing glare from the judge reading her sentence to Palpatine's hologram sitting in front of her to the clone troopers who were to carry out her sentence. Anakin knew very little about her, only that she had been found guilty of smuggling illegal goods for the Separatists. Apparently no one else knew much about her either, not even her first name.

She was only ever called "Solo."

Although she was about to die, neither her face nor what little movement her arms could make betrayed any fear. Her thick brown eyebrows were down in a sharp angle pointed at her nose, and her similarly-colored hair formed a thick mane around her head. She reminded Anakin of a raging beast posed to attack - he almost expected her to snap her binders and escape.

"Prisoner Solo," the judge finally said, his voice booming around the arena, "you have been found guilty of smuggling illegal goods and working for the Separatists, and you been sentenced to death by blaster fire. Do you understand this?"

"I've been asked that a thousand times," the prisoner growled. "I've already said that I understand."

"Do you have any final statements, Solo?"

_Final statements._ Somehow it sounded more elegant than _last words._ Anakin swallowed, trying not to feel sorry for the prisoner. It would be counterproductive to justice if he did...but his inner self didn't listen. He kept imagining her breaking free, wishing against his better judgement that that would happen. The memories of being condemned to death only a few months before unwillingly entered his head.

"Yes," the woman said boldly, "I have plenty of final statements about your so-called Republic and your so-called chancellor. Or maybe I should say your dictator."

Palpatine's hologram abruptly stood up. "Your treason speaks for itself as to why you are to be executed, young Solo."

"What's the point of final statements?" the prisoner snapped. "You're only going to kill me no matter what I say." She turned her head to the witnesses, seeming to plant her hateful stare right at Anakin.

"Prisoner, do you have any final statements or not?" the judge said impatiently.

"Yes," the prisoner said, her eyes still fixed on Anakin. "I want someone to take care of my child."

The judge sneered. "Again with the claim about your non-existent child?"

"Child?" Anakin asked.

"Young Skywalker, do not fall for this prisoner's lies," said Palpatine's hologram. "She has been insisting that she has a son in order to win sympathy from the court. There is no validity to her story."

"And yet you've never actually _investigated_ my validity," the prisoner shouted. She turned back to face Anakin. "I have a baby son, Jedi. A friend of mine hid him away when I was arrested."

"Then why doesn't she take care of him?" Anakin asked, feeling strange to be talking to someone about to be executed.

"Because she was caught too," the woman said bluntly.

"Because neither the friend nor the child exists!" the judge shouted.

"If the prisoner has no further statements, then proceed with the execution," Palpatine said with his cold firmness.

"Wait!" the prisoner shouted, a hint of unexpected desperation in her voice. "You Jedi can read minds, can't you? Read my mind and tell them that I'm telling the truth."

Anakin gulped, fingering his padawann braid in a useless attempt to calm himself, both wanting to probe her mind and hesitant to. His stomach twisted at the thought that she might be lying - but it twisted more at the thought that she might be telling the truth. "All right," he said softly, closing his eyes and reaching into her mind with the Force.

"Rubbish!" the judge exclaimed. "Your honor, I ask that the prisoner's ridiculous request be denied. Are we to trust this nineteen-year-old padawann to determine whether or not her claim is correct when we have already investigated it?"

"That's a lie!" the prisoner shouted.

"This Jedi is a friend of mine," Palpatine said calmly. "His skills are quite advanced for his age."

Anakin found himself smiling.

"However," he heard Palpatine say, "he is still not fully trained, and his master tells me that he has difficulty controlling his emotions."

Anakin barely comprehended the chancellor's statement - so intense was his searching. The woman's mind carried very little resistance to probing, even of her memories. He saw that she was indeed guilty of the crimes of which she was accused, as well as a few more that weren't covered in her sentence. But then he saw something else - another memory, much clearer, much more cherished than all the others. She was looking down at a bundle, smiling at a baby's face...

"Solo, in the name of justice and the Republic, we hereby sentence you to death," Palpatine was saying.

"Wait!" Anakin cried. "She's telling the truth! I saw her memory!"

The prisoner's brows went up, her eyes growing wide, staring at him with silent hope.

The judge sent him a glare. "And how do we know you're not lying? How do we know you don't just feel sorry for this wretch??"

Palpatine's hologram smiled at Anakin, the sort of fatherly smile he seemed to have reserved for the young Jedi. "You have done a noble deed, young Skywalker. It is quite honorable to lie to save a life. However..." He turned back to face the prisoner. "...whether or not she has a son is not relevant. It does nothing to change the fact that she is guilty of said heinous crimes. The law must be honored if it is to work." He shifted his focus to the clone troopers circled around her. "Proceed."

The clones raised their blasters.

Anakin opened his mouth to say something, to scream out to spare her, but nothing could come out. Palpatine's words and the sense they had made seemed to have a hold on him. He could only watch with horrified eyes as the prisoner called Solo once more turned her head to face him.

"Find my son, Jedi," she growled. "Find Han."

The clones all fired at once, the light from their blasts causing Anakin to squint, barely able to watch the woman collapsing. His head was spinning, a strange buzzing was in his ears, something was forming in his eyes, but it couldn't be tears...could it? He clasped his hands together in his lap, letting each protect the other from shaking.

When the clones finally stepped aside, it was all over. A red puddle soaked the arena's floor, growing bigger by the moment, spotlighting the crumpled body in the middle of it. With her hands and feet still bound, her body was twisted in unnatural angles, her open eyes looking at nothing, her jaw seeming to hang from the rest of her head.

Anakin didn't know what happened after that, only that he went numb, like some intoxicating drug had overtaken him. The memories of his mother dying in his arms poured in his head, her body blurred with the sight of the prisoner's body.

Another mother was dead.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Anakin walked through the streets as if in a trance, paying no heed to anyone or anything, his head in partial meditation, letting the Force guide him to where he would need to be. He wasn't sure _how_ the Force was guiding him through this unfamiliar city to an uncertain destination, but he kept his mind focused on that woman. The Force urged him on through the crowds, remnants of her Force signature growing closer.

Finally he stopped in front of a large library with high bushes growing in front of it. The prisoner Solo's memories were pulsing in his head, becoming as vivid as if she were standing in front of him. He breathed deeply, thinking for certain that if a baby was hidden here someone would have found it. Nevertheless, he reached out with the Force...and found a small soul hidden in the bushes.

Anakin dove down to his hands and knees and began crawling into the bushes with no thought of getting dirty or tearing his Jedi robes. He shuffled through the dirt and poking branches, following that soul's Force-signature. Finally his hand bumped into something hard, which revealed itself to be a large basket lined with blankets.

Anakin gulped, giving fleeting glances to the basket, lest he notice that the baby inside was dead and he had only been imagining that he felt life. He took a few breaths, gradually gaining the courage to look inside the basket.

There was indeed a baby. His eyes were scrunched closed in sleep, his head bearing a downy layer of brown hair. Slow removal of the blankets revealed that he was wearing nothing but a diaper that smelled like it hadn't been changed in a while - Anakin quickly put the blankets back over him, letting only his little head show.

He quickly reasoned that the prisoner's friend must have been pursued by authorities and hidden the baby here intending to come back to him, but then she was caught. He sat there for several moments simply staring at the child, watching his little chest rise and fall under the blankets. It felt like he had to harness all his energy in order to touch the infant's soft cheek.

The baby woke up, staring up at Anakin for only the tiniest second before he began wailing. Large, hot tears poured out of his eyes, drenching Anakin's fingers. His legs began kicking at the blankets as if they were attacking him.

"Shhh, shhh," Anakin whispered, stroking the baby's cheek in a useless attempt to comfort him. He reached into the child's mind, trying to soothe him with the Force but instead finding a memory that made his heart sink. He saw the face of the prisoner Solo, her head large as seen from a tiny pair of eyes, smiling down at him with motherly affection.

Anakin scooped the crying baby in his arms, pressing him close to his chest. "It's all right...there there...it's all right..." he kept whispering, although things were far from being all right for this infant. Still, his words seemed to have a calming affect on the baby - within a minute, his cries had softened.

"Well now that I've found you, what am I going to do with you?" Anakin sighed. Put him up for adoption? That seemed to be the most logical answer...but Anakin felt that the child's mother wouldn't want to see her son grow up in an orphanage. The image of her writhing in death played itself over and over in his head, swelling his eyes with tears. Maybe he could have saved her if he had spoken up more...but would they have listened? She probably did deserve to die, but did her baby deserve to grow up without his mother because of things she did?

He looked down into the child's hazel eyes, their innocence capturing him, making him hesitant to leave him with anyone. Perhaps he could...no, it was a foolish idea, right? Or maybe...maybe it wasn't. As he continued to stroke the baby's cheek, a plan began to form in his head.

"You'll be all right, little Han Solo," he whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks to the reviewers!

Chapter 2

Anakin returned to the Jedi temple carrying baby Han's basket, sneaking around corners, shielding his Force signature so the other Jedi wouldn't sense his presence, praying that the baby wouldn't cry out. It seemed that the Force was with him at first, but as he crossed into the room where the younglings trained, a voice spoiled his stroke of good luck.

"There you are, Anakin."

Anakin gasped at the sight of Obi-Wan standing on the other side of the room. He made a feeble attempt to hide the basket behind his back, but realized that would do little good. His stomach flipped. How was he going to explain this?

"Uh...hello master," he fumbled.

Obi-Wan stepped up to his padawann, his eyes twisted in a curious expression. "Anakin, what's that?" He pointed at the basket.

Anakin gulped, his hand tightening its grip on the basket's handle. The baby's weight was starting to pull on his arm, paining his muscles, tempting him more and more to put the basket on the floor.

"It's...it's a baby, master," he finally muttered.

"What???" Obi-Wan bent over and peeled the blankets off of little Han's face, revealing his bright hazel eyes. "Anakin, where did he come from??"

"His name is Han, and his mother's dead," Anakin explained as he put down the basket, doing his best to keep his voice calm. "She was executed this morning." He stared into his master's eyes. "She told me to take care of her baby."

Obi-Wan was vigorously shaking his head. "Anakin, you know you can't take care of a baby. You're a Jedi - your life is committed to serving the galaxy."

Anakin sighed. "I know, master, but this baby..."

"Needs to be put up for adoption," Obi-Wan interrupted. He pinched Anakin's chin. "Anakin, you know that. Even if the code did allow you to have a child, you couldn't properly take care of him when we're at war."

Anakin glanced back down at Han's tiny eyes, knowing that Obi-Wan was right - he couldn't raise a baby by himself. However, Obi-Wan didn't know that he wouldn't _have_ to raise the child by himself.

"I know that perfectly well, master," Anakin said quickly. "However, I have a...friend who would probably be willing to take him in. I'd just like to keep him here for a few days until she gets back from Naboo."

Obi-Wan looked at him like he thought witnessing an execution messed with his mental stability. Maybe he was right about that, but Anakin didn't care if that was the case. His mental stability didn't change the fact that Han needed a home.

"Anakin..." Obi-Wan said at last, "...are you sure Padme would adopt him? She has a life as busy as yours."

"I know..." Anakin said softly, his eyes once more drawn down to the baby, who was yawning, "...but she would love to have a child." _We would,_ he thought. He looked back up at Obi-Wan. "Three days here, master. That's all I'm asking."

Obi-Wan pinched his beard as he too looked down at the infant, studying him as if he were important Jedi records. Little Han was falling asleep, his eyelids slowly falling over those bright eyes. His tiny fingers curled, grabbing a piece of the light blue blanket.

He really was a beautiful child...

"All right," Obi-Wan finally said. "I'll cover for you. But only three days."

Anakin broke into a smile. "Thank you, master."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_Three days later._

Anakin sat nervously on the sofa in the apartment he shared with Padme, feeding Han with a bottle, listening to the tiny slurping noises he made. Any minute now, Padme would be back from Naboo. Was he right in his assumption that Padme would fall in love with the baby as easily as he had? In the short time that they had been married, they had talked often about children, deciding that although it would be wonderful to have them, it was unlikely in a secret marriage. A pregnancy would be hard to conceal from the public's eye.

But an adopted child might solve that problem...

Han's mouth released the bottle, signaling that he'd had enough. Anakin put the bottle on the table, gently leaned the baby over his shoulder, and began patting him on the back, waiting for the tiny burp that he thought was the cutest sound in the universe.

"You're going to meet your new mommy soon, Han," Anakin said softly, after which the burp came, as if Han were expressing excitement.

"Yes," Anakin continued in a high voice as he returned to cradling Han in his arms. "Yes, you're new mommy's coming. You'll love her so much - it's impossible not to love her." He tickled the child's stomach, leaning forward to rub noses with him. "And then we'll be a happy little family, yes we will."

The sound of the door opening interrupted the moment, causing Anakin's heart to stop. He quickly placed Han back in his bassinet on the table and rose to his feet, swallowing all the way. What if Padme didn't want him? What would he do then? Everything in his plan depended on Padme agreeing - if she didn't, the boy might have to grow up in an orphanage after all.

He rushed to the door, intent on greeting his wife before she got too far into the apartment. Specifically, before she saw the baby. He caught her just as she stepped through the front door, wearing a smile so wide it looked like it could pull apart her face.

"Anakin!" she exclaimed, immediately throwing her arms around him.

"Padme," Anakin murmured, a similar smile growing across his face. Before he even knew what was happening, he and Padme were locked in a passionate kiss. He wanted to just linger in this kiss until their lips ran out of energy, but concern about the baby forced him to prematurely pull out of it.

"How's your family?" he asked. "Or...I guess I could call them _our_ family now."

"They're fine," said Padme. "Ryoo and Pooja miss you. They kept asking me if I was going to marry you." She sighed. "Of course, I couldn't tell them that I already did..."

Anakin swallowed. There couldn't be any more delaying. "Padme...I have a surprise for you."

Padme once more gave him that smile that made his joints feel weak. "What sort of surprise, Ani?"

Anakin tried to let the Force calm his nerves, but it seemed that his midichlorians had forgotten how to do that. "Well...it's kind of a _big_ surprise...a surprise that requires a lot of commitment..."

"What is it, a pet?" Padme guessed.

"Uh...no, but you're kind of close..." He took Padme's hand and slowly led her into the living room, his heart pounding, he legs feeling like the living room was a thousand parsecs away.

He stopped in front of the table with the bassinet where little Han lay, after which he heard Padme gasp loudly and felt her body stop moving in surprise.

"Ani...Ani...a _baby?_" she forced out.

Anakin quickly pulled his wife around so he could look in her shocked eyes. "Padme, his mother's dead," he said hastily. "Executed, to be exact." He told Padme the story of Solo's execution in as rapid a voice he could muster while still being legible. By the time he was finished, Padme's face had turned a shade lighter than it usually was and her eyes looked like the last time she blinked was a full minute ago.

"Padme, he needs us," Anakin persisted. "I sense it."

Padme looked back over at the child, who was kicking his feet in what might be interpreted as delight. "Ani...we've talked about this...you know we can't have children."

"It's not against the law for a single woman to adopt a child, is it?" Anakin persisted.

"No, but..."

"Then all the outside world needs to know is that _you_ adopted a baby," said Anakin. "No one needs to know about my involvement."

Padme responded with only a long sigh. Anakin released her from his grasp and scooped the baby into his arms, letting his wife see his little face up close. "Look at him, Padme. He needs a good home. We can give him that. Come on, hold him."

Padme still said nothing, but she didn't protest when Anakin placed the baby into her arms. She held him stiffly at first, like someone who wanted to be detached from him, but that only lasted for around three seconds. Her arms relaxed, her hand reaching to tickle Han's face. He caught one of her fingers in his toothless mouth and began sucking on it like a bottle, pulling tiny giggles out of her mouth.

"He likes you, Padme," Anakin encouraged. "He wants you to be his mother."

Padme slowly eased her finger out of Han's mouth, wiping the saliva on his light green sleeper. "Is that true?" she whispered. "You want me to be your mother?" She stared at the baby's eyes much like how Anakin had when he first found him.

"I've already gotten a bunch of baby supplies," Anakin nudged. "Baby formula, bottles, diapers, toys, lots of stuff." He took a slow breath as Padme looked back up at him, skepticism back on her face. "He's a wonderful little boy, Padme."

"What about when he gets older? How will he feel when he needs to hide who his father is from the world?"

"A lot better than he'll feel in an orphanage," Anakin said firmly. "Look Padme, I know this will be hard, but we can do it. Think of it - we can be a real family!"

Padme still didn't give an answer - she just returned to looking at the baby, looking more and more like she was falling under his spell. "Han...that's what you said his name was, right?"

"Right..." Anakin said in a hopeful voice.

"Would his name be Han Skywalker or Han Naberrie?"

Anakin felt like he had just won a million credits. For a moment he had to remind himself how to breathe. "Neither," he finally said. "His real mother's name was Solo - I think she'd want him to carry her name, since he won't remember anything else about her."

Padme breathed loudly, bringing the baby closer to her face, the hint of a smile in her lips despite the fact that she was trying to remain serious. "All right," she sighed. "Welcome to our family, Han Solo."


	3. Chapter 3

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks to all the wonderful reviewers! Sorry it took me a while to get this up - I've been busy finishing up "My Mother."

Chapter 3

_Coruscant, Five years later._

Padme stood hidden in the shadows of the senate building, silently praying that no one would notice her absence. She had been trying to avoid allowing people to look at her for too long, lest they notice something odd about her shape, which was no easy task in the life of a senator.

She still wasn't sure how it happened. Had she mistimed when those intimate moments were allowed? Had the Force just decided to mix up her monthly times? More likely, she had let herself forget her schedule, halfway an accident, halfway on purpose. But why would she do that? They already had Han, after all. Was it because she loved Han so much that she wanted another one?

But whatever the reason, it had happened, and she was now touching a stomach which was nurturing new life, awaiting how her husband would react to the news. She gulped repeatedly, supposing this was how Anakin had felt five years ago when he brought Han home.

Finally she spotted her husband, coming home alive and safe. He ran up to her and scooped her into his arms, letting her savor the sensation of touching him. Within a seconds, their lips were locked together in a kiss that wanted to linger on for hours.

"Oh, Anakin..." she murmured. She pulled back to look at her husband's face, assuring herself that it was really him and not some hallucination. "There were whispers...that you'd been killed." She pushed liquid down her throat, thankful that she hadn't allowed herself to fully believe those rumors - and more thankful that she had opted not to tell Han about them.

"I'm all right," Anakin assured, his fingers stroking the back of her neck. "Feels like we've been apart forever, doesn't it?" He kissed her again, as if her lips were a magnet pulling his face towards them. "I've missed you and Han so much...where is he, anyway?"

Padme gently pushed his face a few inches away from hers. "He's at the apartment - 3PO's looking after him."

Anakin looked slightly hurt. "But doesn't he want to come greet his daddy here?"

Padme sighed, looking at the floor. "Anakin, what do you think it's like telling a five-year-old that he can come here to see his father, but he can't address him as Daddy until he gets home? You know how long five months is to a child his age - if he were here he'd probably shout at you with so much enthusiasm that the whole senate would hear."

A loud puff of air made its way out of Anakin's mouth. "I suppose you're right." He kissed her cheek, a gesture which she would usually return to him, but today her mind was too occupied. Talking about Han filled her mind with her current condition.

"Padme, are you all right?" Anakin asked.

Padme breathed in through her nose, still unprepared for this moment.

"You're trembling," Anakin continued.

Padme felt her mouth drying up as she opened it to speak. "Something wonderful has happened..." She rubbed her lips together in a useless attempt to moisten them. "Ani...I'm pregnant."

She both anticipated and dreaded her husband's reaction, but for a few long moments, it seemed that he hadn't heard her. His eyes stared ahead at nothing for a second or two before his lips broke into a smile of delayed reaction.

"That's...that's wonderful," he said in a stunned voice.

Padme inhaled loudly. "What are we going to do?"

Anakin squeezed her shoulders so tightly that it almost hurt. "We're not going to do anything." He pressed his wife up to him and gave her a warm embrace. "This is a happy moment, Padme." He breathed deeply into her hair. "Does Han know?"

"Yes," whispered Padme, wrapping her arms around her husband. "He's all excited about being a big brother."

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Barely a second passed between Anakin and Padme entering their apartment and a little boy dashing up to them, his arms wide open, a big grin on his face.

"DADDY!" Han squealed, his brown hair bouncing as he ran.

"Hey kiddo!" Anakin exclaimed, lifting his son into his arms. "I missed ya!"

"I miss you too," said Han, rubbing his father's face. "Mommy miss you too."

"I know," said Anakin, bouncing the boy in his arms and kissing his cheek. "I think you've gotten bigger since I last saw you."

"Yeah," said Han.

Padme giggled. "Han, why don't you show your father your birthday present?"

"Okay!" said Han, wriggling out of his father's arms and running towards his bedroom.

"Right, he's five years old now," said Anakin.

Padme strode towards the living room. "I wish you could have been there for his birthday party."

"So do I," said Anakin.

No sooner had the two reached the living room than they saw C-3PO hobbling towards them. "Master Ani!" he exclaimed. "It is so good to have you back here again. Little Master Han has been anticipating your arrival for some time now. He has been quite enthusiastic, I must say. Master Ani, I have warned him about the dangers of being too hyperactive, but he has refused to listen..."

"Thanks, 3PO," Anakin interrupted, doing his best to sound cheerful, but part of him wondering exactly why he had created the droid to be so talkative.

The patter of Han's bare feet sprinting into the room thankfully prevented 3PO from delivering more news. "Daddy! Daddy!" the child shouted. "Look what Mommy got me for my birfday!" He waved a toy saucer-shaped ship at his father. "It's a Cowillan fweiter!"

"Wow, a Corellian freighter!" exclaimed Anakin, taking the toy from his son and playfully examining it. "You know, these are some of the fastest ships in the galaxy."

"Yeah," said Han, his wide grin pushing dimples into his plump cheeks.

"Of course, now he's decided he wants to be a pilot," Padme said, lightheartedly rolling her eyes.

Anakin laughed as he handed the toy back to their son. "Well Padme, you never know."

AN: So as you can see, another thing this AU intentionally changes is the length of the Clone Wars (in the canon they last three years, in this fic they last five). Yes, there will be a reason for this.


	4. Chapter 4

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks to the reviewers!

Chapter 4

That night, the three sat together on the sofa, Padme between her husband and her son, both of whom had a hand on her belly, silently competing to see who could feel the baby move first. She had an arm around each of her two favorite men in the galaxy, running her hands through their hair, relishing in one of these rare moments when the whole family could be together. She often felt sorry for Han, how he got such little time with his father and how she herself often needed 3PO to babysit him because of her hectic life. Still, she never regretted agreeing to adopt him. In spite of his parents' busy lives, Han was obviously happy.

Han turned his head up to face his mother, smiling gleefully at her. "I felt da baby," he said.

Padme smiled back. "I felt your little brother or sister too - I felt it inside me."

Han patted her stomach with his pudgy hand. "When's it gonna come out?"

Padme's hands slipped down to her stomach. "Not for a while. Babies take nine months to grow big enough to live outside the mother's belly."

Han rubbed his mother's stomach, resting his cheek on it. "Did I gwow in your belly too?"

Padme felt her face stiffening, her head slowly turning to look at Anakin, who looked as unsure as she felt. Han had never asked that sort of question before - and they had decided they would wait until he was old enough to understand adoption to tell him that he was adopted. Anakin's breath became louder as he spoke.

"You're our son, Han," he said. "We love you very, very much."

"Yeah?" said Han.

Padme looked back at him and his wide eyes told her that this wasn't a satisfactory answer for him. She gently wrapped her arms around his neck. "No Han," she said in a motherly voice, "you didn't grow in my belly. You grew in another woman's belly, but then she died when you were still a baby. That was when Daddy found you and brought you home to be part of our family."

"Oh," Han said in a surprisingly neutral tone, going back to resting his head on Padme's round stomach. Padme wasn't sure if he completely understood what she had said, but at least he didn't seem faltered by it. In fact, judging by the smile on his face, it seemed to hardly affect him at all.

"Han?" Anakin said, seeming eager to change the subject. "Do you have any ideas for what to name your baby sister or brother?"

Han's eyelids were drooping. "Not yet," he said drowsily, his head sinking further into his mother's dress. "Maybe later."

Padme eyed her husband, giving him a knowing smile. "I think it's time to put someone to bed."

Han's eyes popped open at the mention of the dreaded B-word. "No!" he exclaimed. "I wanna stay up and feel the baby some more!"

Padme giggled, briefly flashing the "okay, let's go to Plan B" look at her husband. "All right Han, you can stay up." She then began tenderly, rhythmically stroking his back, humming softly as he once more settled down, his head nestled on his mother's belly.

Plan B worked - in just a few minutes Han was asleep.

Anakin chuckled softly. "I wonder if that will work as well with our new baby."

"I doubt it," whispered Padme. "Remember how much he was up during the night after you brought him home?"

Anakin quickly rose from his seat and scooped his sleeping son into his arms, letting his head rest on his shoulder. With Padme closely following her husband, the couple headed for Han's bedroom to tuck in their little treasure.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Well that went better than I thought it would," Anakin said once he and Padme were in their room. He sat down on the foot of their bed, gazing at his wife with her light blue nightgown, which seemed to highlight her pregnant stomach.

"What, putting Han to bed?" Padme asked, picking up her hairbrush and beginning to run it through her curls.

Anakin shook his head. "No...telling him he was adopted." He sighed. "I've been dreading it...wondering if telling him would be destroying his image of us."

Padme ceased her motion with the brush still stuck in her hair. "Ani, he has a right to know the truth." She stepped closer to the bed. "Besides, he seemed to handle it pretty well. I think this was actually the perfect time to tell him - when he's old enough to understand but not old enough to think we betrayed him by not telling him right away."

Anakin rubbed his Jedi robes, trying not to point out how cute Padme looked with a brush caught in her hair. "But what about after the baby comes? What if he gets jealous?"

Padme smiled. "Older siblings _always_ get jealous when babies come, adopted or not." A snicker escaped her lips. "Mom and Dad told me that after I was born, Sola kept asking if they could put me back in Mom's stomach."

Anakin found himself snickering with his wife as she resumed brushing her hair. "We just need to assure Han that we still love him," she said. "Maybe give him some special time when the baby's asleep or something."

Anakin nodded as he rose from the bed, gazing at his wife as she strode out to the balcony, the lights from the city giving her hair an extra radiance. He stared tranced at her arms' graceful motions, amazed how something as simple as getting tangles out of her hair could be so beautiful when she did it.

"Ani, I want to have our baby back home on Naboo," she said dreamily. "We could go to the lake country where no one will know...you know how much Han likes it there anyway." She turned her head to face her husband, showing him that dazzling smile. "Han and I could go there early to fix up the baby's room."

Anakin stepped closer to his wife, slightly dazed from the sight of her. "So...are we going to tell the public that you adopted another baby?"

Padme shrugged, her smile unwavering. "Might as well."

Anakin breathed deeply, a smile forming on his own face, his eyes tracing her gorgeous figure, ending on her belly that housed his child. "You're so...beautiful," he murmured.

Though Padme's face remained smiling, it scrunched a bit in embarrassment. "It's only because I'm so in love. Only because I've got such a wonderful family."

The Jedi's heart sped up as he joined his wife on the balcony, the nippy outside air licking their faces. "No," he chuckled, rubbing her stomach, "it's because _I'm_ so in love with _you."_

"So love has blinded you?" Padme said playfully, running her free hand through his hair.

Anakin laughed slightly, but not wishing for this conversation to become a contest over who loved the other more, he grabbed her cheeks and pulled her into a long, passionate kiss. He felt the warmth of her hands gripping the back of his neck - as well as the hardness of her brush handle, which she seemed to have forgotten she was holding.

As they savored the kiss, Anakin thought to himself that with his wife, son, and baby on the way, they must certainly be the most fortunate family in the galaxy.


	5. Chapter 5

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: As I always say, thanks to all for reviewing! Oh, and today's the anniversary of ROTS's release, so this is a good day to post this.

Chapter 5

Screams.

Painful cries for help.

A newborn's wail.

His wife calling his name through her tears.

A barrier preventing him from reaching her.

Then silence.

Silence of death.

A life sacrificed so another could be born...

Anakin's eyes popped open, his body flying to a sitting position, sweat exploding out of his pores, his mind barely comprehending that he was in bed. He buried his face in his hands, his mechanical fingers rubbing his forehead, trying to gain the courage to look to his side. It was a dream...only a dream...only a dream...

As slowly as if a blaster would fire if he looked too fast, he turned to the side, sighing heavily when he saw his wife sleeping beside him. He listened for her steady breath that barely broke the silence of night, often what lulled him into peaceful slumber. It was present. It had only been a dream.

No...it would be only a dream for regular people, regular people who didn't always have the Force communicating with them, regular people who couldn't receive premonitions of the future. Nightmares were nothing for them, only jumbled up remnants of thoughts that often vanished from the mind within hours.

But he wasn't regular...

Nightmares _spoke_ to him.

They had before...five years ago...warning him that someone he loved was in pain...

Anakin's head buzzed, unable to stand being in bed anymore, unwilling to risk falling back asleep and seeing that vision again. His legs shook as he threw them over the edge of the bed, having to remind himself of the motions required to get out of bed. With hands tingling as if he'd been sitting on them, he pulled on a robe and rushed out of the bedroom.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Anakin walked down the hall unsure where he was going. He still heard Padme's cries of death in his head, still saw her writhing face. He suddenly felt cold, his hands empty, his soul leaking out of his body as if he had been abandoned to live alone on the streets.

_Alone..._he was alone. His mind felt like it was crying out to indifferent souls, screaming to deaf ears. The nightmare was shouting in his head, growing louder and more vivid, as if it would destroy him if it were allowed to nest. No...no...he couldn't be alone. He needed to be with someone.

Without any knowledge on how he got here, he found himself standing in front of Han's room, the door covered with the boy's scribbly drawings that were visible even in the moonlight. His eyes were level with a drawing he didn't think he'd seen before - a drawing of two stick figures, a tall one and a smaller one. The tall one had long brown hair and a lopsided circle drawn over its stomach area. Both the figures had smiles that were larger than their faces. In big, wobbly handwriting were three words with arrows pointing to the areas they represented. Anakin squinted, attempting to read them in the dark.

The word with the arrow pointing to the tall figure was "Mommy," and the word with the arrow pointing to the smaller figure was "Me." Anakin very briefly found himself smiling at his son's drawing, momentarily forgetting about his nightmare - until he read the word labeling the circle in the tall figure's stomach...

"Baby."

With the reflexes usually saved for when he was under attack, Anakin pushed the button to slide open the door, sending that picture out of sight. Once the door was open, he found himself walking into the room, heading for his son's bed, though he couldn't figure out the reason why he was doing so. It was as if he was a droid programmed to sit down at the foot of Han's bed and assist him if he woke up.

The buildings' lights from outside the window illuminated Han's sleeping face, letting Anakin see clearly that the boy was beginning to stir, likely disturbed by his father sitting on his bed. Within seconds, his eyes blinked open, vaguely making out his surroundings.

"Daddy?" he said sleepily, his right hand rubbing his eyes.

Anakin forced himself to smile at the child. "Hey son."

Han pushed himself to sit up, his eyes still blinking. "Are you okay?"

It was only then when Anakin realized that his cheeks were wet and his eyes were still producing tears. He took a deep breath before speaking to his worried son. "Han...you know how you sometimes have bad dreams?"

"Yeah?" said Han, sleepiness apparently drained from his now-wide eyes.

"And you know how the bad dreams are sometimes so scary that you get into bed with me and Mommy?"

"Uh-huh."

Anakin's fingers twitched. "Well...I had a bad dream like that."

Han's eyes grew wider. "Gwownups have bad dweams?"

Anakin shrugged. "Sure they do. Everyone does."

Han scrambled out from under the covers and crawled up to his father. "What did you dweam?" he asked with a mixture of concern for his father and excitement to discover that he too had bad dreams.

Anakin sighed. "I don't feel like telling you..." He squeezed his eyes, trying in vain to prevent more tears from leaking out.

Han patted Anakin's lap. "I feel better when I tell Mommy about my bad dweams."

Anakin knew the dream would traumatize his son, yet somehow his thirst for comfort overran his logic, compelling him to speak, once more feeling as if he were a programmed droid.

"Well...I dreamed that the baby was coming..." he began in a voice that he could barely hear. He stroked Han's hair with his real hand. "And...something went wrong."

Han scooted closer to his father until their sides were touching. "What happened?" he asked in a small, scared voice.

Anakin wrapped his arms around the child. "Han, really, I'm okay, I don't need to talk about it."

"No you're not," Han observed. "You're cwying."

Anakin sniffed loudly, resenting his son's perceptiveness. "All right..." He stroked Han's side with a fatherly tenderness that didn't reflect how he felt inside. "In my dream...Mommy died."

"What???" Han yelled, instantly making Anakin's heart sink. He felt a wave of panic coming off of his son as he shook his head ferociously, his brown hair whipping around his little head.

"No!" Han shouted, his voice shaking. "No! Dat's not gonna happen! NO! NO!"

Anakin buried his face in his metal hand, wondering how his mind got so twisted as to tell a small child about his dream.

"What's going on?" a female voice asked, disturbing both the adult's stupor and the child's screaming. Anakin slowly looked up, seeing his wife standing in the doorway, her hair mussed but still absolutely beautiful.

"Mommy!" Han exclaimed, leaping off the bed, running to his mother, and squeezing her as tightly as his five-year-old arms could manage.

Padme cupped the back of his head in her hands. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

"You're not gonna die when da baby comes, are you?" Han whimpered.

"What??" Padme shouted, briefly giving Anakin a confused look before turning her attention back to her son. "Of course not, Han. Who told you something like that??"

Han opened his mouth to answer, but instead burst into tears, crying into Padme's nightgown.

Padme looked like she desperately wished her body would allow her to crouch down and comfort her son. She ran her fingers through his hair, fruitlessly attempting to console him."Han...it's okay...it's okay...it's okay..."

"Can I sleep wif you?" Han sobbed.

"Of course you can," Padme whispered, casting strange looks at Anakin as she led Han out of the room.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Did Han have a dream about me dying?" Padme asked once Han had fallen back asleep between his parents.

Anakin fiddled with the sheets, trying to focus on Han's gentle breathing and pretend he hadn't heard his wife.

Padme lifted her head off the pillow, letting Anakin feel her stare even in the nearly-complete darkness. "Ani, come on, what happened?"

Anakin sighed, exposing the rasp in his throat. "Han didn't have a dream..._I _did."

Padme raised her head higher. "What was it about?"

The Jedi squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing as if something sour was in his mouth. "It was like the dreams I used to have about my mother..."

"And?"

Anakin kept his eyes closed. "And...it was about you." He opened his eyes like a frightened child. "You...you die in childbirth."

Though her face was shrouded in darkness, Anakin thought he saw Padme's eyes widen. "And the baby?" she whispered.

Anakin closed his eyes again, giving a slight shake of his head. He'd heard the baby cry in his dream, but seen nothing of it.

Padme inhaled loudly. "What about Han? Was he in it?"

Anakin opened his wet eyes, facing the slumbering little boy. "No...he wasn't." He swallowed again, wondering if Han's absence had meant anything.

He felt Padme's hand brushing through his hair. "It was only a dream, Ani."

"I won't let this one come true..." he whispered, his mouth barely able to form syllables.

Padme continued stroking her husband. "Ani...why did you tell Han about it?" she said, her voice half-consoling and half-scolding. "Didn't you figure that it would scare him?"

Anakin closed his eyes yet again, this time refusing to open them before morning. His arm crept to the side, wrapping around his little son, trying to soothe the terror he had caused, his mind flying through the past few minutes, wondering what sort of state he had been in.

"I don't know..." he whispered.


	6. Chapter 6

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thank you for reviewing! Sorry this chapter took a little while to get up.

Chapter 6

"Mommy! Mommy! MOMMY!!"

Anakin slowly opened his eyes to see the sole of Han's foot just inches in front of his face, which was the only thing his bleary eyes could make out in the darkness of early dawn. A slight turn of the head revealed that the boy was on his knees, trying to shake Padme awake.

"Mommy!" Han shouted, his voice increasing in desperation.

"Uuugghh..." Padme groaned, her eyes still closed. "Han...Mommy's pregnant...Mommy needs sleep."

Han pushed her shoulder again, unwavered by his mother's request. "Mommy, are you okay?"

Padme's right eye opened. "Han, I'm fine...I'm just tired."

"You pwomise?" said Han.

Padme's other eye opened as she grunted and pushed her head off the pillow. "Han, listen to me." She reached up and squeezed his arm. "Daddy had a very bad dream, but that's _all_ it was. I'm _not_ going to die when the baby comes. You understand?"

Han gave a sharp nod.

"Yes," said Padme. "Now Han, it's really early in the morning, and both your father and I have a very busy day ahead of us. You don't want us to be tired and grouchy when we work, do you?"

Han shook his head with the same sharpness.

"Right," the mother continued. "We should all get a little more sleep before it's time to get up. Okay?"

"Okay," Han sighed, shifting the mattress as he settled back under the covers.

Anakin quickly shut his eyes, pretending that he had been asleep the whole time, though his stomach was churning yet again. He felt a stab of envy for his wife and son. They could live in the illusion that it was indeed only a dream. They could abandon it to be nothing except the subconscious mind playing with his fears.

Of course, there might be a possibility that they were right, but Anakin grasped that in the same way that he would grasp the possibility that humans could fly without any assistance. It was only the vaguest idea to him, lacking any real plausibility. The Force had given him another glimpse of the future - of that he was certain.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"The chair now recognizes Senator Amidala, representative of the sovereign system of Naboo."

Chancellor Palpatine's deep voice echoing around the meeting room reminded Padme of a king demanding attention, who always wanted to remind his subjects that he outranked them. Why was she even bothering with this proposal? She had made several similar motions before, all of which were rejected without discussion. However, now that Count Dooku was dead, perhaps the senate would be more open about ending the war.

"Fellow members of the Galactic Senate," she began as her box hovered toward the center of the room, "this is a difficult time for us, I am perfectly aware of that. For five long years, we have been struggling in our battle against the Separatists. Many of us wonder if it will ever end. However, we are not powerless in answering this question for ourselves."

A loud murmur surrounded Padme's ears, sounding full of disapproval. She tried not to let it flow into her head. "As some of you know," she continued, "I have a young son named Han. He was a baby when I adopted him, which was soon after the war began. Now he is a rapidly-growing five-year-old. Every day he serves as a reminder of how long we have been fighting."

"Indeed," said Palpatine, cold humor in his voice. "I believe we are all aware that the war has lasted five years, Senator."

Padme ignored his statement. "When I look at my little boy, I often wonder if the war will still be going on when he is old enough to fight in it. And furthermore, what state will the galaxy be in when he reaches that age? What sort of world are we leaving for our children?"

"A safer one, Senator," a voice said.

"Are we sure of that?" Padme snapped, whipping her head in the general direction the voice seemed to be coming from. "With every victory against the Separatists, we could be creating more enemies bent on revenge against our future generations." Before anyone had time to respond to that, she increased her volume. "Fellow senators, yesterday the Jedi killed the dangerous Separatist leader Count Dooku. They have now made it their top priority to locate General Grievous - and I believe they will find him any day now.

"It is clear that the war will end soon. In fact, the Jedi may very well end the war for us. Yet we must also remember what we are fighting for." She pointed her glare at the chancellor. "We are fighting to maintain security, yes, but we are also fighting to preserve the principles of democracy and equality on which this Republic was built. Now that the war is nearing its end, it is high time to return to those principles." Her eyebrows lowered. "I propose that the chancellor lay down his emergency powers and allow democracy to resume."

Even from this distance, Padme was sure she saw the chancellor smirk. "Quite a bold proposal, Senator," he said. "Certainly understandable, but at the same time unrealistic. Your statement that the war will be over soon is based on nothing more than your misguided faith in the Jedi." His voice grew so loud that Padme thought he wouldn't need amplifiers to be heard around the room. "General Grievous is on the loose, commanding the droid army to kill all they can, and nobody can say where he is. The Jedi may be looking for him, but they are stretched thin all over the galaxy. It could take months or even years before they even have the slightest idea on where Grievous is." His voice suddenly relaxed, speaking like a father explaining something difficult to his child. "You all know that I care deeply for the ways of the Republic, which is exactly why I have these emergency powers in the first place."

"Hear hear!" a voice called, after which several more voices echoed those words. As the enthusiasm for stronger emergency powers rose, Padme's box floated back to its place, the senator in it defeated once again.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Padme returned home to shouts of glee that completely contrasted with her mood. Once she stepped into the living room she saw Anakin and Han sitting on the floor, Han in his father's lap, neither of whom seemed to notice her. Han was waving the toy Corellian freighter he had gotten for his birthday in the air.

"Brrrrrrrrrruuuuuummmmm," Han sputtered.

"All right, you ready for the jump to light speed?" said Anakin.

"Yup!" Han shouted.

"Okay!" said Anakin. "One...two...three..."

"LIGHT SPEED!" they both screamed together, leaning back as far as they could go without tumbling over.

Padme found herself smiling in spite of what had happened at the meeting.

"Uh-oh!" shouted Han. "Dere's a Sepwatist ship!"

Anakin began leaning forward. "Oh no, they're pulling us into their tractor beam!" He began shaking, causing his son to giggle loudly.

"What we gonna do?" Han said with pretend fear.

"We're gonna have to fight the battle driods!" said Anakin.

Han began pointing his pudgy fingers like blasters. "Go away, battle dwoids!"

Padme started laughing at her son's antics, finally causing her family to take notice of her.

"Mommy!" Han exclaimed, still waving the toy ship above him.

"Hey honey," Anakin said with a large grin. "We were just playing."

"I can see that," said Padme, stepping up to her husband and son until she was towering over them.

Han flew to his feet and wrapped his arms around his mother's legs. "Mommy, I was a piwot!"

"I know," Padme said in a high voice, ruffling her son's tangled hair. "It looked like you were a very brave pilot."

"Yeah!" said Han. "Daddy's my co-piwot!"

Anakin pushed himself off the floor so he could grab his wife's face and kiss her lips. "So how was your meeting?"

Padme sighed, the cynicism she felt during the meeting returning. "The senate voted more emergency power to the chancellor."

Anakin squeezed her shoulder. "That's great!"

"_Great??"_ Padme shouted.

Anakin's eyes widened at his wife's sudden fierceness. "Well...doesn't it mean that the war will end quicker?"

Padme wanted to scream in frustration. Did _no one_ understand this? "Ani, it _might_ mean the war will end quicker, but it also means that the chancellor almost has absolute power over the senate." She pushed a lock of her husband's hair behind his ear. "The principles of democracy are falling before our eyes and no one seems willing to do anything about it."

Anakin ran his gloved hand through her hair. "Padme, the chancellor knows what he's doing. Once the war ends he'll lay down his emergency powers and democracy will return, you'll see."

Padme sighed again, glancing down at Han's smiling face. "I hope you're right, Ani."


	7. Chapter 7

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks as always to the wonderful reviewers! You guys are awesome!

Chapter 7

As the family sat around the dinner table, they focused their conversation on Han, partly to entertain their son and partly because he could keep them from discussing politics and launching into another argument. Padme tried her best to let her son keep her from thinking about politics as well, but the chancellor seemed to be haunting her mind, which was something even Han couldn't cure.

Han was taking a long sip of blue milk, the rim of the glass resting on his nose. "Careful Han," Padme chided, gently nudging the boy. "You don't want to get a blue mustache."

Han ceased his drinking to grin widely at his mother, showing her that he hadn't gotten any milk on his face...yet. "Mommy, guess what!" he said in an exhilarated voice, as if he just now remembered an exciting truth.

"What?" asked Padme.

"Daddy's on da Jedi Council!"

Padme quickly faced her husband, whose face was scrunching either because he had taken a too-large sip of wine or because of what Han had said. "Really? Ani, you've been put on the Council?"

"Yeah..." Anakin said, with considerably less excitement than Padme would expect.

"Well why didn't you tell me they made you a master?" Padme said with a large smile.

Anakin sighed. "Because they didn't make me a master."

Padme's smile faded. "What? But aren't all members of the Council..."

"Yes," Anakin interrupted sharply. "Until now."

Padme reached across the small table and touched her husband's hand. "Ani, I'm sorry."

Anakin sighed, sticking a forkfull of food into his mouth.

Padme forced herself to give a small smile at Anakin. "It's just a label, Ani. What really matters is that you're on the Council."

Anakin scraped his fork against his plate. "Except that no one in the history of the Jedi has ever been on the Council without being called a master..." he muttered.

"What do you do on da Jedi Council, Daddy?" Han asked.

A bit of life in Anakin's face was reawakened. "Well, the Jedi Council members are the leaders of the Jedi. They make the decisions about who is ready to become a Jedi Knight, which padawanns will be assigned to which masters, who goes on what missions, that sort of thing."

Han's eyes brightened, though Padme doubted that he really understood all that. "Dat sounds like fun! I wanna do it too!"

Padme smiled at her son. "You can't, Han. You're not old enough. Even Daddy is the youngest person to ever be on the Council." She gently poked her son's arm. "Now come on, finish your vegetables."

"Okay," said Han, seeming like he was going to forget about his ambition to be on the Jedi Council within a few minutes.

She purposely didn't mention that Han would never be on the Jedi Council even when he was old enough. Anakin had given Han's blood a midichlorian count when he was a baby - and she had breathed a long sigh of relief when it revealed that Han's cells didn't carry enough midichlorians to ever use the Force. Her child could live a normal life without ever being pressured to give up on everything and join the Jedi.

But his little brother or sister might have difficulties...

Padme suddenly put her hand on her stomach, her food having difficulty making its way down her esophagus. Anakin's biological child would almost certainly be Force-sensitive. Concealing a marriage from the Jedi was one thing, but how would they conceal a Force-sensitive child? The Jedi took Force-sensitive children away from their parents as soon as they were old enough to comprehend the idea of being a Jedi. She swallowed, glancing at her husband, wondering if he would want that for his child.

She knew _she_ didn't.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Anakin and Padme were sitting in bed, Anakin rubbing his wife's stomach with his real hand, gently massaging her skin with his fingertips as he waited for the baby's movement. Padme tried to savor her husband's soothing touch, but try as she may, the difficulties of a Force-sensitive child kept coming back to her.

"What do you think of Luke if it's a boy?" asked Anakin.

"Luke?" asked Padme. "Where did you come up with that name?"

Anakin shrugged, his bare shoulders pressing into his cheeks. "I dunno - it's a popular name on Tatooine. I heard it a lot when I was a kid." He patted his wife's stomach. "And Tatooine _is_part of his heritage, even though I wish it wasn't." He leaned back and stretched. "Anyway, Luke Skywalker has a nice ring, doesn't it?"

"Yes...but how do we know his last name will be Skywalker? It would be a pretty dead giveaway that you were the father then."

Anakin cocked his head. "Well...Luke Naberrie also has a nice ring - just not as nice as Luke Skywalker."

Padme playfully poked her husband's arm. "All right, we can give it a Tatooine name if it's a boy - so long as it gets a Naboo name if it's a girl."

Anakin nodded, his hand once more brushing his wife's belly. "Fair enough. Any ideas?"

"Not right now," said Padme, placing her hand on top of Anakin's. She breathed deeply as the child bumped her, once more filling her mind with concern about its Force-sensitivity.

"Anakin..." she said softly after a few moments, "what's it going to be like for Han when he finds out that his little sister or brother can do things he can't do?"

Anakin paused his affection, raising his head to meet his wife, his smile faded. "Padme...we don't know for certain that the baby will be Force-sensitive."

"There's just a very strong possibility," Padme said firmly.

Anakin once more lowered his head to her stomach, faintly kissing her skin. "Padme, sibling jealousy is something all families have to deal with - you said so yourself."

"I'm not just talking about Han," said Padme, her hand slipping off of Anakin's and brushing her own skin. "Anakin...suppose the Jedi discover that I adopted a Force-sensitive child. They'll want to take him or her away to be trained, won't they?"

Anakin swallowed, pressing his cheek against Padme's stomach. "Well...technically they give the parents a choice on whether or not they want their children to be trained..."

"But they put a lot of pressure on them," Padme interrupted.

Anakin frowned, but he gave a slight nod, his skin sliding against Padme's. "Force-sensitive children are very rare...especially considering that the Jedi aren't allowed to have children..."

Padme breathed deeply - the conversation seemed to have put extra pressure on her muscles. She imagined her child being ripped out of her arms, never more to know the love of his or her mother for the sake of the galaxy.

"I don't want our child forced to be a Jedi," she said suddenly, with a volume not normally heard in the bedroom. "I mean, if she or he _wants_ to be a Jedi, that's a different matter, but..." She couldn't finish her sentence.

Anakin raised his head, his eyes betraying uncertainty. Despite the fact that she wasn't Force-sensitive, Padme could tell that he was thinking about his own life, how he was taken from his mother never to see her again until her death. But leaving to become a Jedi had still been his _choice._

The Jedi sighed greatly, his face communicating that whatever gains he made, whatever benefits the galaxy had gotten, those years lost could never be recovered.

"Neither do I," he whispered.


	8. Chapter 8

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Happy Father's Day! And thanks as always to the reviewers!

Chapter 8

"Ani...Ani...ANI...HELP ME..."

Her cries echoed into the darkness, but no one could help her as her screams of torture faded away into eternal silence.

"MOMMY!! MOMMY!!!"

The child's tear-soaked face was dragged away, his hand reaching out for his mother that could no longer grant any comfort. Large, rough hands reached out of the darkness, grabbing the boy's waist, pulling him back as he shouted for his mother.

"Han! Han! HAN!!!"

The father's choking, desperate voice was unheeded by the hands carrying away the child - just like the boy's cries.

"Anakin, you are not his father," said the accented, kindly, horrible voice of the man he called his master. "You can't take care of a child. You're a Jedi."

"To hell with it, Master - my son needs me!"

Obi-Wan's face remained expressionless as his hands grasped the younger Jedi like the claws of a wild animal. "Anakin, the Jedi need you more. You should never have adopted him in the first place. Anakin, you know attachments are counterproductive."

"I don't care - he's my son!!!"

The father's screams and tears continued to be wasted on the deaf ears of his master, whose hands refused to release him, leaving him to watch his son being dragged away forever, his hand still reaching out for comfort that wouldn't come, his face red from crying, his screams pounding into his father's ears.

"_DADDY!!!!"_

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Anakin woke up soaked in sweat, blinking rapidly, squinting as the morning sunlight shot into his eyes, confirming to himself little-by-little that he was in bed, that the baby hadn't come yet, that everything was all right...for now. Now was fleeting, now was temporary, now wouldn't last. The advice Yoda had given him the day before was buzzing in his head like a nasty insect.

_Train yourself to let go of all you fear to lose. _

Anakin ran his metal fingers through his eyebrows, letting the cold hardness take away some of the focus from his mind, but only some. His head was burning, as if a remnant of his soul had gotten lost in the dream never to find its way back to the waking world. All possibility that his previous dream might have been nothing more than what a nightmare would be to a regular person vanished. One dream might have carried enough doubt for it to be a tiny possibility, but two dreams almost certainly meant he was receiving premonitions.

And Han had been in this one...

Anakin rubbed his sticky forehead with his regular arm. Han...he had no legal custody over him. As far as the world was concerned, Padme was single and Han had no father. If Padme died, Han would be taken away.

And where would he go? To his grandparents? His aunt? It seemed one of those would be the logical choice, but his dream seemed to indicate otherwise. The Jedi shivered, twisting the sheets between his legs, still hearing the screams of his wife and son in his mind.

He rolled to the side, seeing that Padme was gone, which tied a knot in his stomach even though he knew she had probably just gotten up before him. Once again he felt terribly, horribly alone. Yoda's words felt like knives piercing his soul. How could the world be so cruel as to expect him to let go of the two people he loved the most?

His body continued to shake as he forced himself out of bed, praying that his wife and son were safe even though his rational side knew they were. His eyes itched as if he had been crying for a long time. While his body hobbled out of the bedroom, his mind was still suffering with the dream, struggling for a way out of this destiny.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Rrrrrwaaaarrr!" Han shouted, jumping in front of his father the instant he walked through the kitchen doorway. The child was still wearing his yellow-and-green striped pajamas which were unbuttoned at the top, his raggy brown hair still mussed from the night.

Anakin managed to find enough presence of mind to pretend to be frightened at his son's antics. "Aaah! A monster!"

Han burst into a fit of giggles. "No Daddy, I'm a Wookiee! Dey're not scawy."

"Hmm, I don't know about that," said Anakin. "I hear they sometimes tear your arms off." He playfully pinched the boy's cheek. "Yoda says that getting a Wookiee angry is even more dangerous than angering a Sith."

Han's giggles grew louder, sounding like he was in danger of getting the hiccups. "You funny, Daddy."

"Finally up?" Padme's voice called from the stove without looking at her husband, yet even the back of her head was enough to make him gulp as his dream once more pulsed in his head.

Anakin inhaled, trying to still his tongue before it spilled his dream out. "Yeah..."

Padme turned around to face him, her smile that would normally bring him joy now only making the dream more vivid. "Han told me about where Yoda's going - he's been pretending to be a Wookiee all morning."

"Yoda..." Anakin repeated, feeling a surge of anger flowing through him despite any attempts to block it off. He suddenly found himself wishing the Jedi master were here so he could give him a good punch.

He swallowed, trying in vain to eliminate the image of Yoda suffering in his head, trying to dismiss the appeal of it. He was a Jedi - he couldn't think like this...he couldn't...but somehow the image of Yoda in pain remained without consequence, without remorse, only the single moment of punishment for the one who told him to let go of his family.

"Ani? Ani, are you all right?"

Anakin blinked at his wife as if he'd only now noticed her presence. "What?"

Padme raised an eyebrow. "Your mind seems to be somewhere else." She stepped closer to her husband. "What's wrong."

Anakin sighed, glancing down at Han before answering. "I'll tell you when Han's not here," he whispered.

"Why don't you wanna tell me?" Han piqued up, a frown suddenly appearing on his face.

Anakin gritted his teeth, wishing his son didn't have such good hearing.

"Yes, why don't you want to tell him?" Padme repeated.

Anakin sighed in irritation. "Last time you were angry at me for telling him."

Padme's casual movements stilled, her eyes slightly expanding. "Another dream?" she said in a hushed voice.

Anakin bit his lip as he nodded.

"You dweamed of Mommy dyin again?" Han asked, his eyes wide in fear, his fingers gripping his mother's skirt.

Padme gently wrapped her arms around her husband, lightly patting his back. "Anakin, you're afraid, that's understandable, but you shouldn't let your fear control you..."

"Han was in this one," Anakin said suddenly, seemingly without permission from his brain.

Han threw his arms around Padme's legs, not taking his wide eyes off his father.

Padme released her husband from the embrace so she could stroke the boy's head. "Ani..."

She wasn't given the chance to say anything more, for Anakin suddenly dropped to his knees, his face level with Han's. He slid his metal fingers behind his son's ear, bending it slightly. "Han..." he whispered, "...you need to be brave."

The child sniffed loudly. "What's gonna happen, Daddy?" he choked.

"I don't know," said Anakin, staring into the boy's hazel eyes. "I had another scary dream last night."

"Did Mommy die again?" Han asked, his eyes beginning to swell up with tears.

Anakin felt the air draining out of his lungs, a silent voice telling him to stop what he was doing, but another equally-strong silent voice telling him to continue, their clashing only giving him the ability to nod.

The tears welling in Han's eyes started dripping down his cheeks. Anakin cupped his son's head in his hands as he kissed his face, tasting the saltiness of his tears.

"There's more," he said, once more unsure why he was saying it. "In my dream, after Mommy died, some strange people took you away from me."

"Wh-why?" Han struggled to say through his sobs.

"Because they didn't think I could take care of you," Anakin whispered.

Han sobbed louder, his face beginning to redden, his cheeks drenching. "I don't wanna go!" he screamed between heaves.

Anakin threw his arms around his son, squeezing him closer until the child's face was pressed against his father's shoulder. "Han," he whispered, stroking the sobbing boy's back, "you won't be taken away. I'm going to find some way to stop this." He pulled out of the embrace so he could look straight into his son's eyes. "I promise."


	9. Chapter 9

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thankies to all the reviewers! Sorry this chapter took a little while to put up - I had a bit of writer's block.

Chapter 9

Weeks drifted by, with the visions of death and suffering returning to Anakin's mind almost every night. He had ceased talking about his dreams, lest he frighten his son or receive talk about rationality from his wife. There were times when he couldn't stand looking at her. Her growing stomach served as a constant reminder of what little time she had left.

"Anakin, I think I've found the right name for our baby," she said to him one afternoon. "Well, if it's a girl."

Anakin refused to let his focus shift from the view out the window. Hearing Padme talk about the baby only brought the twist back to his stomach. In all the torturous nights, his dreams still refused to show him what would become of the baby...the baby that was going to kill his wife.

"Ani? Are you all right?"

Anakin forced himself to turn away from the window and look in his wife's brown eyes. "What name did you think of?" he said with more disinterest than she probably expected, purposely ignoring her question about whether or not he was all right.

Padme raised an eyebrow, but she didn't press the matter of his well-being. "Leia," she said.

"Leia?" Anakin repeated, sounding mildly interested this time.

"Yes," said Padme. "It's a name given to daughters on Naboo who are expected to have great destinies."

Anakin slowly placed his mechanical hand on Padme's stomach, running the gloved fingers up and down her royal blue dress. "It's a beautiful name..." he whispered.

"Thank you," said Padme.

Leia - or Luke - kicked Anakin's hand, which he only felt because of the bump nudging the spot where the metal connected to his flesh. He wanted to love that child...he ached to love that child...but whatever he felt for him or her couldn't be love, for this life would mean the end of another. How could he love someone who killed his wife?

Tears filled up his eyes as his mind scolded itself. He remembered the instant attachment he had felt with baby Han - he wanted that same attachment to his biological child. Why couldn't he make himself feel it?

"Ani...?" Padme started.

Anakin quickly pressed his lips against hers to prevent her from asking why he was crying. After he pulled out of the kiss, he hastily said, "Can you watch Han tonight? The chancellor wants me to meet him at the opera house."

"Yes...but why does he want to meet you?"

"He didn't say," answered Anakin. "He only said that he has something important he wants to tell me."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Anakin hurried up the red carpeted steps of the opera house two at a time, glancing at the passerby and realizing he wasn't really appropriately dressed for this place. His simple Jedi robes looked dull and drab when compared to the elegant attire worn by the other patrons. But he wasn't here for the show anyway.

His heart raced as he neared the box where Palpatine said to meet him. He had been doing his best to avoid Palpatine in these last few weeks, lest he actually find something suspicious that the Jedi Counsel would want him to report. This way he could be honest when he told the Counsel that he hadn't observed the chancellor doing anything suspicious...though he knew that wouldn't work for long. He found himself barely able to slow down when he reached his destination - part of him wanted to conveniently race past it so he wouldn't have to face the chancellor, but his common sense and his curiosity about what Palpatine wanted to tell him slowed his legs.

The chancellor was sitting in the front row of the box, overlooking the theater from a great height. Anakin barely took notice of the performers' dazzling work as he approached the chancellor, his stomach feeling like it would regret eating soon.

"You wanted to see me, Chancellor?" he asked.

"Yes, Anakin," Palpatine said with a surprising amount of joy in his voice. "Come closer, I have good news."

Anakin stepped forward and crouched down to the chancellor's level, having discovered that there were no empty seats in the box.

Palpatine gave the Jedi his fatherly smile. "Our clone intelligence units have discovered the location of General Grievous. He's hiding in the Utapau system."

Anakin felt as though his lungs had been released from a tight grasp that had been holding them for years. "At last," he breathed. "We'll be able to capture that monster and end this war." There would be no more need for spying now - Palpatine would lay down his emergency powers and things would return to normal.

Palpatine's fatherly smile stretched until it was almost touching his ears. "I would question the collective wisdom of the Jedi Counsel if they didn't select you for this assignment. You're the best choice - by far."

Anakin's cheeks heated up slightly. For a moment he imagined himself returning to Coruscant as the hero who destroyed General Grievous and brought peace back to the galaxy, a medal of honor around his neck as the entire Republic cheered.

"Sit down," Palpatine continued. He turned to his associates seated around him. "Leave us."

Everyone else in the box immediately rose and exited in an orderly fashion, as if they were droids programmed to obey their master without protest.

Anakin felt a little uneasy as he eased himself into the seat next to Palpatine, sinking into the soft cushion. A small notion that the chancellor might figure out that Anakin had been told to spy on him entered his head. How could he ever explain himself? He tried to focus his thoughts on Padme and Han, as if Palpatine could read his mind.

"Anakin," Palpatine said slowly, "you know I'm not able to rely on the Jedi Counsel.

Anakin breathed deeply as he forced himself to gain the courage to look at the chancellor, feebly trying to come of with ways to talk his way out of this situation.

"If they haven't included you in their plot, they soon will," Palpatine continued.

Plot? So he _had_ found out? Anakin suddenly felt dizzy. He kept Padme and Han in his head, hoping they would calm him, but that only brought his dreams to mind. "I...I'm not sure I understand..." he mumbled.

"You must sense what I have come to suspect," Palpatine continued. "The Jedi want control of the Republic - they're planning to betray me."

It was as if someone had forced Anakin to swallow several large rocks. The murmur of applause from the rest of the audience was drowned out by the buzzing in his ears. The Jedi wanted to _take over the Republic??_ Did Palpatine _really_ think that?

"I don't think that..." were the only words he could get out before Palpatine cut him off, though the Jedi didn't really know what he was about to say.

"Anakin," Palpatine said firmly, looking the younger man in the eye, "search your feelings." His eyes seemed capable of piercing Anakin's being. "You know...don't you?"

Anakin's mouth went numb. This was a ridiculous idea...ridiculous...ridiculous...but why couldn't he stop the tingling in his stomach? Why was the Counsel's request to spy on the chancellor playing over and over in his head?

"I...I know they don't trust you..." he found himself saying against his will.

"Or the senate...or the Republic...or democracy for that matter," Palpatine stated, once more turning to face the show, though he didn't seem to be watching it at all.

Anakin felt unable to close his mouth. "I...I must admit, my trust in them has been shaken..."

"Why?" asked Palpatine, once more turning to face the young Jedi, his eyes in a relaxed, compassionate expression. "They asked you to do something that made you feel dishonest, didn't they?" His eyes tensed up like an officer of the law questioning a suspect. "They asked you to spy on me, didn't they?"

The fluids in Anakin's stomach seemed to escape up to his head. He shook his head in a useless attempt to get rid of them, vaguely wondering if this was a dream. "I-I...I don't...I don't know what to say..."

Palpatine reacted without surprise. "Anakin, think back to your early teachings. All who gain power are afraid to lose it - even the Jedi."

"The Jedi use their power for good," Anakin automatically retorted.

Palpatine's chin stretched, seeming to straighten out his wrinkles. "Good is a point of view, Anakin." There seemed to be a bit of a proud smile on his face. "The Sith and the Jedi are similar in almost every way, including their quest for a greater power."

This _was_ a dream. It _had _to be. Anakin tried to open himself to the Force in hope that it would prevent him from shaking. "The Sith rely on their passion for their strength," he said, concentrating on keeping his voice steady. "They think inwards, only about themselves."

Palpatine's piercing eyes once more stared into his. "And the Jedi don't?"

"The Jedi are selfless," Anakin said, his voice betraying a hint of doubt. "They only care about others." Needles of guilt stabbed his soul as he uttered those words - endless reminders of the times when he hadn't lived up to that ideal. Even only a few minutes ago he had envisioned himself ending the war because of the glory it would bring.

Palpatine turned again to face the arena without actually watching the show. After a moment or two, he said, "Have you ever heard the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise?"

"No..." said Anakin, the numbness in his mouth spreading to the rest of his face.

"I thought not," said Palpatine. "It's not a story the Jedi would tell you. It's a Sith legend."

The question on how the chancellor would know a Sith legend fumbled through Anakin's mind, stumbling over the hold Palpatine had on him, unable to get more than a vague passing from him.

The chancellor began telling the story without any indication on whether or not Anakin would want to hear it. "Darth Plagueis was a dark lord of the Sith, so powerful and so wise, he could use the Force to influence the midichlorians to create..." He stared at Anakin with a knowing look in his eyes. "..._life._"

Anakin swallowed several times in rapid succession. Was Palpatine really implying what he thought? Anakin knew he had no father...he had known that as long as he could remember...why hadn't it ever affected him as strongly as it was affecting him now? Because he had never considered the possibility that he might have been created by a Sith? He wanted to get up and leave...he wanted to dismiss this as a mere story...but something was holding him in place.

"He had such a knowledge of the dark side," Palpatine continued, "he could even stop the ones he cared about...from _dying."_

"_ANI! HELP ME!"_

"_Anakin, you are not his father."_

"_DADDY!!"_

Anakin felt the air knocked out of him, his dreams pounding in his head like a headache. "He could actually...save people from death?" he whispered, staring at Palpatine as if he were a god who could heal his troubles.

Palpatine gave a smile for the briefest of seconds before speaking. "The dark side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural."

The dark side. The thing he had been taught all his life to avoid. Sweat was trickling down his face, his stomach feeling twisted beyond recovery. The dark side only led to destruction, not healing...right? The dark side couldn't be used for good...could it? Could it actually..._save_ people?

"Wh..what happened to him?" he asked.

Palpatine gave that chilling smile again. "He became so powerful, the only thing he was afraid of was...losing his power...which, eventually, of course, he did. Unfortunately, he taught his apprentice everything he knew - then his apprentice killed him in his sleep." His smile grew wider, an odd air of satisfaction surrounding it. "It's ironic...he could save others from death...but not himself."

His heart pounding so hard that it seemed determined to break his ribs, Anakin found himself asking, "Is it possible to learn this power?"

Palpatine's smile abruptly faded at he once more looked the young man in the eye. "Not from a Jedi."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Padme!" Anakin breathed the instant his wife opened the door to their apartment. He immediately threw his arms around her, breathing in the fresh scent of her hair, clutching her thick robe. "Padme...Padme...Padme..."

"Ani, what is it?" Padme asked in a confused voice.

Anakin inhaled deeply, wanting her smell to linger in his nostrils. "Nothing...you're just exceptionally beautiful tonight."

Padme abruptly pulled out of the embrace. "Ani, come on - something's wrong, isn't it?"

"No," Anakin said quickly. "No, nothing's wrong at all."

"What did the chancellor want to tell you?"

Anakin could answer this question truthfully without going into details. "The clones have found out where General Grievous is."

A sudden smile broke onto Padme's face. "Really?"

"Really."

Now it was Padme throwing her arms around Anakin. "Finally."

"Yes, finally," Anakin murmured somewhat uneasily, hoping she would ask about the details of his meeting. "Where's Han?"

"He's sleeping," said Padme. "He wanted to stay up until you got home, but you were out so late..."

"Then let me kiss him goodnight," Anakin interrupted, pushing himself out of the embrace and heading for Han's bedroom before his wife could express any confusion to him.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Han was curled up under his light blue blankets, his brown hair tangled against the pillow, breathing softly, unaware that his father was stroking his cheek. How beautiful he was, Anakin thought. His innocence shone through when he was asleep...the innocence that was destined to end soon. He would lose his mother...be taken away from his father...his life of happiness would be torn apart...

No! That couldn't happen. The story Palpatine had told Anakin was buzzing through his head like a parasite. There was hope...there was a chance to save his family...

He leaned over and kissed Han's soft cheek. "Sweet dreams, Han," he whispered. "You're going to be all right."


	10. Chapter 10

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks again to all who reviewed! You make my day!

Chapter 10

"Padme?" Anakin said cautiously once they were both settled into bed, just as she was reaching up to turn off the lights.

Padme stilled her arm, slowly bringing it down. "What?"

Anakin raised his head inches above the pillow. "Padme...I want to talk about something...something serious."

Padme rolled to her side, looking her husband in the eye. "What is it?"

Anakin's eyes lowered to focus on a corner of his pillow. "Padme...have you worked out guardianship for Han?"

"Guardianship?"

"Just in case something happens to you," Anakin said hastily.

Padme gave a small groan. "This is about your dreams, isn't it?"

"No, it's about Han," Anakin said firmly. "Padme, as far as the outside world is concerned, I have no right to keep him if something happens to you." He swallowed, then added, "Not to mention the baby."

Padme's eyes were growing rounder by the second. By now her head had risen enough to be level with her husband's, letting him see her mouth hanging slightly open. "Anakin...honey..."

"Do you have arrangements for Han??" Anakin practically shouted.

A large frown was forming on her face. "Ani...how do I give guardianship rights to a Jedi? Jedi can't have children."

"But I have one anyway," Anakin persisted before sliding his real hand over to his wife's stomach. "Soon I'll have two."

Padme sighed, digging her knuckles into her forehead. "The Jedi Counsel won't let you raise Han by yourself."

Anakin's nerves were vibrating, unable to believe that Padme was actually expressing doubt about letting Han's father raise him. "Then if something happens to you, I'll resign. I'll leave the Jedi. Our children are more important than protecting the galaxy." His voice increased its speed. "Better yet, I'll tell them about how I've been married behind their backs so they'll expel me."

Padme reached over and put a single finger on his lips. "Anakin, do you realize what you're saying?"

Anakin grasped her wrist with his metal hand and removed her finger from his lips. "Do you realize what _you're _saying?? You're saying you want Han to be taken away from his father!"

"No I'm _not!"_ Padme insisted, pushing her head up higher than her husband's. "Ani, of _course_ I don't want Han taken from you."

"But you're defending it," Anakin said coldly.

Padme's hand gripped his shoulder with a tightness that lacked warmth. "Anakin, I'm just telling you what the Jedi are going to say."

"I don't care what they say," Anakin replied, his voice lowered to a near-mumble. Did he mean that? Was he truly willing to sacrifice his lifelong dream like that?

"Anakin, Han has other family on Naboo," Padme continued. "Mom and Dad and Sola all love him - they'd take good care of him. And you could still come visit him..."

"_Visit_ him??" Anakin yelled, slapping the mattress loudly. "_Visit_ him??? You're expecting me to be fine with _visiting_ my son maybe once a year or less???"

"Ani, I'm only being realistic," Padme said, her voice increasing in volume. "Even if you did leave the Jedi, I don't know if you would be granted custody. Leaving the Jedi might be seen as a sign of irresponsibility."

Anakin's face was rapidly heating up. "So you're saying giving up my entire life's ambition for my son is _irresponsible???"_

"NO!" Padme yelled. "I'm only saying that's what other people might think!"

"Mommy? Daddy?"

The small voice coming from the doorway yanked the couple out of the argument. They both snapped their heads around to face their son, standing timidly in his pajamas, clutching a toy bantha to his chest. Anakin swallowed guiltily at the thought that he probably heard them shouting.

Now Padme was sitting up completely. "Han, what is it?"

Han's round eyes reflected the room's light, staring ahead as if he were entering a monster's cave instead of his parent's bedroom. "I...I had a bad dweam...can I sleep wif you?"

"Of course, honey," said Padme. "Come on up."

Rather than run up to the bed like he usually did when he had a nightmare, Han tiptoed across the room as slowly as if his parents were sleeping and he didn't want to wake them. Once he finally reached the bed, he didn't jump into it - he only peered over the top of the mattress.

"Why were you yelling...?" he whispered.

Anakin sighed, a lump forming in his throat. "We were having a fight, but we're all right now." He reached out with his real hand and stroked his son's hair. "Don't worry sweetheart, we're fine. Come on into bed."

Han obeyed his father, but seemed to be making a point of not looking at either of his parents as he crawled under the covers between them.

"What did you dream?" Padme asked.

Han sniffed loudly, his fingers curling around his mother's pillow. "I-I dweamed you were gone...and Daddy was gone too...I was all alone..."

Anakin's insides scrambled up.

Padme sighed. "Come here, sweetheart." She reached out her arms and gathered up her son, pressing him close to her body. "It was only a dream..." she murmured, wiping Han's teary face, "...only a dream...you're safe now..."

She began slowly swaying back and forth, gently rocking the child, her voice gradually transitioning from murmurs to a melody, humming a soft, soothing tune, her hand stroking his hair in the same manner as she had done on the first night after Anakin returned. The father watched silently as Han began to nod off in his mother's arms, listening intensely to her song and slowly realizing something.

"Padme..." he said softly, "...do you always hum the same song?"

Padme abruptly ceased her humming and swaying, her head jolting upward to look at her husband, as if she had never before thought of that possibility. "Well...I guess I do most of the time..."

"Why?"

Padme went back to looking at Han, seemingly not wanting to look her husband in the eye. "I'm not really sure...I think it might be derived from something my mom used to sing..." Her face scrunched slightly. "No, I'm not sure if it's the exact same tune...I don't even know if the song has lyrics..."

"It's pretty," commented Anakin. "Has a real intimate feel to it...I don't know how I managed not to notice it before."

Han muttering as he pushed himself deeper into Padme's chest prevented her from thanking her husband. She turned her attention back to her son, kissing his head, stroking his ear, as if willing him to have better dreams. Han's sleeping face gained a look of absolute serenity, assured that no harm would come to him while in his mother's arms.

"You know..." Anakin whispered carefully, "...I could ask permission from the Jedi Counsel. Maybe if I took Han with me to tomorrow's meeting, they'd understand why I should get custody of him. Then you wouldn't have anything to worry about."

Padme was easing Han back into a lying position with one arm while the other arm reached up to turn out the light. "Perhaps..." was all she said before the room was shrouded in darkness.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Padme...Padme...please...please, stay with me...don't leave me..." the husband desperately pleaded through his tears.

The dying mother harnessed all her strength to open her eyes. "Where...where...where's my son...?"

"He misses you, Padme," Anakin cried. "He wants you back...come back for him...don't leave..."

Though her glassy eyes were staring directly at him, Padme took no notice of her husband. "I need...need someone to...to take care of my child...need someone...my Han..."

Anakin gripped her hand, squeezing it nearly to the point of fracture. "I-I'll take care of him, Padme...I will...but you're not going to die...YOU'RE NOT GOING TO DIE!!!"

Her pupils dilated, her lids rapidly batting, her breath heaving. "No...no...not you..."

"What??"

Her eyebrows lowered, a menacing glare overtaking her pale, trembling face. "You can't take him...not my baby...no...you'll hurt him..."

Fire erupted in Anakin's soul. "Padme..." His voice nearly vanished. "...Padme...it's me..."

"You monster!!" the dying woman spat, her body immobile but her eyes burning. "I won't let you take my child...you'll hurt him...YOU'LL KILL HIM!"

Her breath cracked, her body stiffened, her head fell limp, yet using her final bit of strength, she choked out an order with the ferocity of an animal.

"STAY AWAY FROM MY CHILDREN!"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Anakin awoke unwilling to open his eyes. The familiar icy sweat was once more drenching his body, the familiar twitches once more shaking it. He remained in the sanctuary underneath his lids for an uncertain amount of time, staring into the blurry darkness, his muscles tranced, his mind vaguely trying to command himself to open his eyes without the rest of him listening.

It was only his wife's gentle sigh that pried his lids apart. With the buildings outside providing the only light, he could barely make out Padme and Han sleeping next to him, Padme with her arms wrapped around her son's little body. Yet his mind could fill in the details unnoticed by his eyes - he saw the peace they were in.

He desperately tried to dismiss this latest nightmare as merely a product of his fears, but once again that possibility was nothing more than a tiny idea without any real merit. What could this one mean? Monster...Padme had called him a monster...said he would hurt Han if allowed to raise him. Was it because only this evening he had learned that the dark side might carry potential to heal his wife? But no...he hadn't actually considered the dark side...had he?

The young Jedi rolled to his back, covering his eyes with his left arm, hoping he would fall into sleep that was free of dreams and remain there for the rest of the night. _I'm not a monster,_ he whispered in his head. _Even if I learn this power, I won't be a monster. It will be to save my family, nothing else..._

The whispers sifted through his mind, mixed with fragments of Palpatine's story. Save people from death...the Force could save people from death...what difference did it make if that was an element of the dark side? How could saving his wife and son possibly be evil?

Yet even as he thought those words, another wave of guilt overtook him, his constant teachings to trust in the Force and resist the empty promises of the dark side rushing through his soul, momentarily making him feel strong enough to overcome whatever temptations came his way, then vanishing like mere fantasies, like regular dreams that disappeared once the dreamer awoke, only leaving behind one question.

_What's happening to me?_


	11. Chapter 11

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks as always to the reviewers!

Chapter 11

"Now remember Han, you can't call me Daddy during the meeting," Anakin whispered to his son as they departed the speeder onto the Jedi Temple's landing platform.

"Cuz it's a secret," Han responded, nodding sharply, clinging to his father's hand.

"Right," Anakin affirmed, hastily leading the child into the building, hoping his racing heart would remain concealed within his body. He debated within himself whether or not he should shield their presence from the other Jedi before the meeting. Would he have a better chance if his fellow Jedi Council members already knew Han was coming, or if it came as a complete surprise?

To Anakin's dismay, Obi-Wan was already standing in the Council chamber when they arrived there. All hope he might have had of being alone with his son so he could prepare him for this vanished.

"Hi Obi," Han said with a wave, completely oblivious to the seriousness of the coming meeting.

Obi-Wan gave a slight wave to the boy before looking up at his former padawann, an expression of disbelief on his face. "Anakin, what's this all about?"

"What's what all about?" Anakin said innocently, unsure why he thought playing dumb would help him.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "I think you know perfectly well what." He pointed at Han. "Why have you brought Padme's son here?"

"She's busy today - she wanted me to watch him," Anakin said truthfully as he sat down. Padme did indeed have meetings all day today. He just happened to leave out the detail that 3PO usually babysat Han when his parents were working.

Obi-Wan sighed as he sank into the seat next to the younger Jedi.

"I have an important announcement for the Council," Anakin said quickly. "Don't worry about Han - he'll behave."

Obi-Wan rubbed his forehead. "The Council isn't usually accustomed to children being present for their meetings."

"I know, Master," said Anakin, fearful of saying anything more, fearful that if another word exited his lips then Obi-Wan would forbid Han from coming.

Obi-Wan said no more for the moment, but he seemed unable to remove his gaze from Han.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"So...Grievous is hiding in the Utupau system," Mace Windu repeated once Anakin had delivered his news. His fingers were clasped, his large eyes staring with disapproval, the frown that seemed permanently edged in his face pointed directly at Anakin. "Are you sure about this?"

Anakin tried not to let Mace's glare into his soul. "A partial message was intercepted at the Utupau embassy."

"Act on this, we must," Yoda's hologram declared. "Quickly and decisively, we must."

Anakin breathed deeply, knowing fully-well that the child in his lap was hindering his already-small chances of this request being fulfilled. "The chancellor has requested...that I lead the strike team."

"The Council will make its own decisions on who is to go," Mace practically snapped, "no matter what the chancellor says." His eyes lowered at Han. "Did he perhaps tell you to bring that child here to gain sympathy for his requests?"

"Leave Han out of this..." Anakin replied, unable to raise his voice over a mutter.

"A master is needed," Yoda's hologram interjected, continuing to pretend Han wasn't there, as he had been for the whole meeting. "One with more experience."

"I concur. Master Kenobi should be sent," said Ki-Adi Mundi's hologram.

The fantasy of returning a hero and receiving a medal of honor returned to Anakin's head - only this time it ended with Obi-Wan snatching the medal from him. He did not vote in favor of Obi-Wan going, but he gave no further protest either.

"So it's settled," stated Mace. "Master Kenobi will take a strike team to the Utapau system."

"Mmmm," Yoda's hologram murmured, turning to face Anakin for the first time that afternoon. "Something else you wish to discuss, young Skywalker?"

Anakin nearly jumped in surprise - he hadn't yet mentioned that he had anything else.

"Regarding that boy, is it?" Yoda continued, pointing a static-interfered finger at Han.

Anakin wrapped his arms around Han's waist, praying that his son wouldn't say anything. "Yes Master Yoda," he said, trying in vain to sound stoic, "I have another matter to discuss with the Council. Yes, it involves Senator Amidala's son."

"Speak," Yoda said without any sort of infliction, yet Anakin could already feel his disapproval.

The father cleared his throat, pulling Han closer to him. "The senator from Naboo is concerned about what might happen to her adopted child if something happened to her. As...as a good friend of them both, she believes that I would be the most qualified to take care of Han. She...she wishes to grant me guardianship rights."

There seemed to be an explosion of protest coming from all corners of the room, only a few words distinguishable to Anakin's ears.

"The code forbids this."

"There is no way a Jedi can take care of a child."

"Attachments interfere with caring for the galaxy as a whole."

"How can you even consider this?"

Han wrapped his arms around his father, burying his face in his chest. Anakin's mouth burned, the urge to shout obscenities at the entire Council shaking his lips and pressing against his gums, as if he were being strangled and only the obscenities would release him.

Yoda raised his hand, silencing the Council. He turned to directly face Anakin, his wrinkly eyelids narrowed. "Know the Jedi code, do you?"

"Yes, Master Yoda," replied Anakin. "I am not asking to have a child - I am only delivering Pad...Senator Amidala's request. It is only in case something were to happen to her."

"Family the child has," Yoda said firmly. "Take care of the boy, Senator Amidala's parents or sister could. Needed, you are not."

It was everything Anakin already knew, but somehow when it came from Yoda it placed a sense of finality on the situation. It was foolish to bring Han here in the first place - of _course _the Jedi wouldn't accept his request...yet somewhere in the back of his head had been that childish hope that something would compel them to listen.

He knew what Padme would say when they got home. She would tell him that the Jedi had their reasons for saying these things, she would assure him that she wasn't going to die any time soon anyway, and then she would say that even if she did, Han's family on Naboo would take care of him.

But she was wrong on all these accounts...Anakin was sure of that. His premonitions had not shown Han taken to a loving family, nor had they ever given any hope that Padme would survive.

"Adjourned, this meeting is," declared Yoda, after which his hologram flickered away, leaving Anakin alone in a room full of disapproving eyes.


	12. Chapter 12

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Hey all! Sorry it's been so long - college has started again and I'm busy busy busy.

Chapter 12

Anakin didn't want to look down at his son as they made their way down the halls. He barely felt the boy's tiny grasp on his hand, barely noticed their surroundings. Where were they going now? Home, he supposed - except he didn't want to be there.

Han still hadn't spoken since the meeting started. Anakin couldn't tell if it was because of shyness or fear. Perhaps he should try to start a conversation...but what could he say? How much of that meeting had Han's five-year-old mind grasped? Did he understand that if his mother died he may never see his father again?

"Han..." Anakin forced out, "...would you like to go out for lunch?"

"Yeah," Han said, not looking up at his father.

Anakin began swinging his hand backed and forth, hoping the playful motion would snap his son out of whatever this was. "Well how does Dex's sound?"

"Okay," said Han in that same uninterested tone.

It was a mistake to bring Han here...Anakin heard those words silently nagging his head. He had accomplished nothing except confirming his lack of custody and disturbing his son. Perhaps if he hadn't rushed into this, he might have been able to convince them via a more cunning method...but it was too late now.

"Anakin!"

Obi-Wan was dashing up to them, his robes dancing around his feet. Anakin wanted nothing more than to pick up his speed in order to lose him. Why would Obi-Wan think he would want to talk to him now? It was only Han's little tug on his arm that prevented him from trying to escape.

"Obi!" Han exclaimed.

Obi-Wan reached the two and immediately began ruffling Han's hair. "Hello Han. You were very good at the meeting today."

"Tank you," Han said shyly.

"How's your mother?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Fine," said Han. Anakin briefly worried that the child would mention that his mother was going to have a baby, but Han said nothing more.

After smoothing out Han's hair, Obi-Wan turned back up to his former padawann. "Anakin...I'm sorry about what happened there."

Anakin tried to smile. "Don't worry, Master. I shouldn't have gotten so arrogant. You're probably more qualified for this mission than I am...and after all, the important thing is that we get Grievous, not who does it." Looking back a few minutes, Anakin couldn't believe he had even _cared _about who got sent on the mission when his custody of Han was at stake.

Obi-Wan glanced down at Han. "I actually wasn't talking about that." He bit his lip. "Anakin, I know how close you are to Padme's son."

_No you don't,_ thought Anakin.

"After all, you are the one who found him when he was a baby," Obi-Wan continued. "Were it not for you, he might have perished - and he certainly wouldn't be growing up with such a loving mother."

"Master, I..."

"You would definitely be a wonderful guardian." Obi-Wan looked like he wasn't sure whether to smile or remain serious. "If I could alter the Jedi code..."

"I know, Master," Anakin interrupted with a sigh. "It's not your fault."

"We're goin to lunch, Obi," Han suddenly piped up. "You wanna come too?"

Obi-Wan let himself smile at the boy. "I'd love to, Han, but I've got a war to finish." He gently pinched Han's ear. "How about we have lunch together after I get back?"

"Okay," replied Han, sounding slightly more in the moment than he had been before.

Obi-Wan turned back to Anakin, gently squeezing the young man's shoulder. "Anakin, trust me, your moment will come. You're a far better Jedi than I am. It's only a matter of time before the Council makes you a master."

"Master...good luck with Grievous," replied Anakin, unable to think of anything else to say.

Obi-Wan gave a genuine smile. "Thank you, my friend. May the Force be with you."

"May the Force be with you too," said Anakin, almost smiling back.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

At Dex's, Anakin found that he couldn't eat. His mind only felt comfortable taking long sips of caf while his food remained untouched. Across the table, Han was making his way through his child's meal with tiny bites and long chewing. Since they had entered the restaurant, the only words spoken by either of them had been ordering their food, as if something had taken away their voices.

Han tapped his fork on his plate, making an irritating pinging sound. "Mommy's gonna die, isn't she?"

"What?" Anakin exclaimed.

"Mommy's gonna die," Han repeated, looking down at his food. "Like you said."

Anakin put his cup down with so much force that it rattled the table. "Han...Han, you shouldn't think that my dreams are real."

"_You_ do," Han said bluntly. He looked up at his father, his hazel eyes big and round. "Da Jedi don' want you to take care of me when Mommy dies. What's gonna happen to me?"

Anakin gave a large inhale, briefly closing his eyes. Han had understood everything that happened. "Han...you like Naboo, right?"

"Yeah," Han said without inflection.

"And you like Aunt Sola? And your grandparents? And your cousins?" Anakin fiercely tried to believe that yes, that was where Han would go if Padme were to die...but in his head he saw something else. Han crying out...alone in a dark room...no one coming to comfort him...

"But I don't wanna live wif dem," Han said, blinking rapidly. "I wanna live wif you."

Anakin breathed deeply, raising his caf cup to his mouth, desperately trying to block his tears. "I want to live with you too."

Han seemed to take an interest in poking his food with his fork. "Did my real mommy die cause I was born?"

Anakin nearly choked on his caf. "What??" he exclaimed, tilting the cup in an attempt to prevent it from spilling.

"Did I make my real mommy die when I got born?" Han asked again.

"No...no," Anakin said quickly. He reached across the table to touch his son's head. "Han, listen to me. Your other mother's death had nothing to do with you. She did some bad things, and..." His voice unexpectedly trailed away.

"What did she do?" Han asked.

Anakin raised the cup to his lips again, making a feeble attempt to delay answering that question, wishing that somehow Han were still innocent enough to not ask about things like this. "Well...she helped some bad people move things they had stolen...and she stole stuff herself. She got caught doing those bad things, so the law killed her."

Han was blinking rapidly. "Why?"

Was he asking why his mother did bad things, or why the law killed her, or both? Han's eyes gave no hint to that, but Anakin realized that whatever he meant, he had the exact same answer to both questions.

"I don't know," he said.


	13. Chapter 13

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Hey there! Thanks for the reviews!

Chapter 13

Anakin couldn't remember falling asleep, yet he must have done so in order to be opening his eyes and finding himself lying on the sofa. He grunted softly, stretching his stiff neck the few inches that the sofa arm would allow, closing his eyes once more and remembering that he had visited the nightmare yet again. Padme writhing in death...Han screaming...Obi-Wan pleading the senator to hold on to life...and Anakin completely powerless.

He blinked his eyes back open, seeing Han lying on his chest, sleeping in the late afternoon sun, his weight pressing down on his father's body. Anakin sighed, suddenly feeling that he wanted to stroke his son's hair, but that would require shifting his body and possibly waking the child up.

The sound of footsteps grew louder as their bearer came closer to Anakin. Padme stepped up to the sofa, wearing a plain black dress that did nothing to disguise the lump in her stomach. Black...the color of death. Anakin wished she would change into something else...something that didn't make him think of funerals...

Padme reached down and gently pushed a lock of hair out of her husband's forehead, smiling at him. "Good morning, sleepyhead."

"When did you get back?" Anakin asked drowsily.

"Not long ago," said Padme. "Only a couple of hours ago."

"What??" Anakin exclaimed, nearly jumping up before he remembered that Han was on top of him.

Padme shrugged. "You guys looked so cute - why would I wake you up?" She curled Anakin's hair around her finger. "You know, I'm the one who's pregnant - _I'm_ the one who's supposed to be tired during the day."

Anakin knew he was supposed to laugh at that, but he could barely manage a snicker.

"Oh, by the way," said Padme, "you missed Obi-Wan this morning."

"Obi-Wan was here?" Anakin asked in a dazed voice.

Padme nodded. "He came by just after you left for the meeting. He was worried about you."

Anakin dug his head into the sofa arm. "Why would he worry about me?"

Padme gently stroked her husband's shoulder. "He said you haven't been yourself lately. You seem distressed."

Han stirred slightly, making his father hold his breath, but he gave no further signs of awareness. How could he sleep like this when all he knew was about to vanish? Was he having dreams too? Anakin sighed heavily, turning his head to the side, eye-level with Padme's large stomach. Their baby...a ticking chronometer counting down the seconds to the end.

Padme was now stroking Han's back. "How did the meeting go?"

"Terrible," Anakin croaked. "They wouldn't even listen to me." He stared at his sleeping son's head, listening to his tiny breathing, thinking back to the day when he had found him in the bushes. Had he been wrong? Had he denied Han the opportunity to grow up with a better family, one that didn't have to conceal themselves from the world? Had he adopted Han out of...selfishness?

"Do you think we made a mistake?" he said suddenly.

Padme raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Do you think we made a mistake with...all this?"

A frown crossed Padme's face. "Ani..."

"Remember back on Naboo, when you said it was impossible, that we couldn't live a lie," Anakin said crossly. "What if you were right?" He stared at Padme's hand brushing her son's back. "What if all this isn't meant to be?"

Padme held still for a few seconds, her lips curling as if about to say something, but remaining silent. Her hand pressed down on Han's back as if making sure he still had a backbone. "Ani...do you feel that way?"

Anakin closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. "I don't want to..."

He felt Padme's smooth hand stroking his cheek. "Ani...what about Han?"

"What about him?" the Jedi mumbled, his eyes still closed. "I still would have found him if we hadn't gotten married - I just would've put him up for adoption instead of bringing him home. Who knows? Maybe he would have been adopted by a more stable family."

Padme put a finger on his lid, making his eyes open by reflex. "You don't know that. And what about our baby? Our baby wouldn't exist then."

"Our baby..." Anakin muttered. Suddenly not caring if he woke Han up, he shifted his body to free his artificial hand. His fingers brushed his wife's stomach, the blackness of his glove nearly camouflaged with her dress. He felt nothing - his metal hand had no touch sensors. It was fitting - it matched what he felt for the baby emotionally. No matter how much effort he put into feeling otherwise, he could only see the baby as the thing that would end it all.

Padme gripped his gloved hand, her fingers lovingly stroking it. Though Anakin couldn't feel her touch, his found his eyes welling up again. His real hand was tingling from his son resting on top of it. He looked back at Han and saw his eyes beginning to open, which blurred his vision further. The two people his life revolved around would soon be lost forever, and he couldn't do a thing about it.

Or could he?

He looked back at his wife, who was still stroking his mechanical fingers. Almost before his mind remembered the story Palpatine had told him, he found himself saying, "I found a way to save you."

"Save me?" Padme asked.

"From my nightmares," Anakin declared.

Padme stopped stroking his hand. "Is that's what's bothering you?"

Anakin looked at his wife in complete seriousness. "I'm not going to lose you. I'm not going to let Han lose his mother the way I lost mine."

Padme leaned in closer to her husband. "I'm _not_ going to die in childbirth, Ani. I promise you."

"No," Anakin said firmly, "I promise _you."_

He looked back at his son. Han was now gazing up at his father, his sleepy eyes blinking slowly.

And he was smiling.


	14. Chapter 14

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks as always for reviewing!

Chapter 14

As the weeks passed, the story of Darth Plagueis kept popping unwillingly into Anakin's head, persisting like a chore he was procrastinating. At first he tried to ignore it. It was a myth, a legend - it was very likely complete fiction, though something inside Anakin kept telling him otherwise. Soon he gave up trying to ignore it and simply let it exist in his mind without himself doing anything with it. After a while he discovered that odd things seemed to happen when he thought of the story. The story seemed to give him an strange sense of peace. He kept the story in his mind when he spent time with his wife, when he played with his son, and it reminded him that he could be happy with them instead of being afraid of their fates.

He even told Han the story once, changing names and details so as not to make it sound like a Sith story, and being sure to tell it when Padme was out of the room. To Anakin's disappointment, Han didn't seem too interested in the story. His only question after hearing it was, "Did it really happen?" to which Anakin had no answer.

Then the Jedi found that he didn't suffer the nightmares if he thought of the story before going to sleep. Night after night it played in his head like a lullaby, soothing him, as if the father he never had were telling him a bedtime story.

Maybe it _was _the father he never had.

No father...he had no father. It was something he'd known for as far back as he could remember, something he couldn't recall ever questioning before, something he'd always accepted as a fact of his existence. Conceived by the midichlorians, Qui-Gon had said so long ago...but _how?_ Darth Plagueis had to have lived a long time ago...he couldn't have created Anakin...could he?

_Could _he?

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

After what seemed like an eternity of waiting fruitlessly for a message, the Jedi finally got word that Obi-Wan had located General Grievous, and they sent Anakin to deliver the news to Palpatine. His first specific spying assignment. His real hand sweated as he made his way nearer and nearer to Palpatine's office. The chancellor _would_ give up his power - he _would._..so why was he trembling?

The chancellor rose from his seat the instant Anakin entered, as if the Jedi were an expected guest. His eyebrows straightened at the sight of his visitor, his lips curling, making Anakin almost wonder if he knew exactly what was about to happen.

"Chancellor," he began in a voice softer than he intended, "I bring news from Master Kenobi."

"Anakin," Palpatine said in a nearly monotone manner, "what sort of news?" His eyebrows straightened, as if he were a teacher and Anakin was a student who had gotten an unexpected bad grade.

Anakin inhaled deeply through his nose. "He has engaged General Grievous. Right as we speak he is in the midst of an attack."

Palpatine didn't smile - he merely stretched his lips horizontally for a moment, as if considering the merit of this revelation. "Excellent," he said in a tone lower than his usual voice. "Now we can bring an end to the fighting." He walked across the carpet with long strides, getting closer to Anakin. "I should call a special session of the senate at once."

The surprisingly casual tone in the chancellor's voice suddenly made Anakin wary, though he wasn't sure why.

"Something's troubling you, Anakin," Palpatine continued, his voice even, giving a statement rather than a question. "Are you disappointed that it's your master who ends the war instead of you?"

Anakin's stomach flinched, but he refused to let it show in his face. "No...not really."

By now Palpatine was directly in front of the Jedi, staring into his eyes. "Come Anakin, you can trust me. You've always been able to tell me anything."

"Have I?" Anakin said softly.

"Of course." Palpatine was striding past Anakin, driving the young Jedi to follow him down the carpeted floor, pausing in front of a large painting. "Anakin, ever since I've known you, you have been seeking a life beyond that of an ordinary Jedi. A life...of _significance._" He put his hand on Anakin's shoulder, driving his bony fingers into his skin. "The Jedi don't trust you, do they? Because they know that you could be more powerful than they could ever dream of being. They're _afraid_ of you."

"Chancellor, I..."

Palpatine gave his fatherly smile, deflecting any further words the Jedi might have had. "By the way, how is that little boy?"

Anakin suddenly felt faint. He might have stumbled if it weren't for the chancellor's persistent gaze fixed on him. "Wh-wh...what little boy?"

Palpatine clasped his hands, as if pleased with a new discovery. "Come come Anakin, let's not pretend that you don't know what I'm talking about. It must be difficult for him, knowing he's going to lose his mother."

All moisture drained out of Anakin's throat. His lips parted an inch apart and froze, only his labored breathing able to escape them. Palpatine's words seemed to be swirling in his mind without himself able to grasp them, like a fading dream of which he was fruitlessly attempting to remember the details.

The older man's voice remained gentle, giving no notice to Anakin's silence or his shocked expression. "You know it doesn't have to be this way, don't you? Anakin, let me show you the many layers and subtleties of the Force. It could help you."

"How...how do you know about the Force?" Anakin whispered.

Palpatine's smile grew almost unnaturally wide. "My mentor taught me everything about the Force...even the nature of the dark side."

"Y-you...you know the dark side?"

Palptaine wrapped his arm around the younger man like a father. "Anakin, to truly understand the Force, one must embrace all its elements. To become a great leader, you must gain...a _larger_ perspective, not just the dogmatic, narrow view of the Jedi." His fingers stroked Anakin's shoulder with a tenderness that lacked warmth. "You know the Force is capable of more than the Jedi want you to find out...I know you do."

Anakin's world was blurring, his senses numbed, the only clear image being that of the chancellor slipping his hand off the Jedi's shoulder and beginning to circle him like an animal about to attack his prey.

"Your wife will die," Palpatine declared, his voice growing deeper, more like a growl. "Your son will be taken away. This is the future, you know this...unless you do something to _alter_ it."

Anakin's legs shook as if they were about to cave in and send the body to the ground. "H-h-h-how...how do you know...how can you _possibly _know..."

Palpatine held out his hand. "Come with me, Anakin. Learn the dark side of the Force, discover its power. The power to save your wife from certain death."

Anakin stood frozen for several moments, nearly forgetting he had a body, so intense was his shock. The only movement his subconscious was capable of making was his mechanical hand inching across his torso, finding its way to his belt, but once his metal fingers brushed his lightsaber, a bolt of life shot through him, granting him the ability to activate the saber and point it at the chancellor.

"_You're_ the Sith lord," he snarled.

Palpatine didn't shudder, didn't flinch, didn't move at all. "Your love for your family is strong, Anakin, and yet the Jedi discourage it. Why do you still believe you must follow them?" His fatherly smile spread across his face. "I beg you, for the sake of your family, don't fall for their lies."

Anakin kept the blade pointed at the chancellor's neck, though it seemed like his insides were crumbling. He could slice Palpatine's head off right now...he should...but why couldn't he move?

The chancellor slowly rotated his body, turning around until the back of his head faced the Jedi, as if inviting Anakin to run the saber through him. "Are you going to kill me?" he asked simply and calmly.

"I would very much like to," Anakin shouted, though part of him doubted the truthfulness of that statement.

"I know you would," Palpatine hissed softly. "I can _feel _your anger. It gives you _focus, _makes you _powerful._"

Sweat was tricking down Anakin's face, with him lacking the strength to wipe it off. He kept his eyes focused on the back of Palpatine's head, but even without facing him, it felt as if the chancellor were staring at him, urging him on with something...but what?

"You have the power to save Padme," Palpatine stated. "Isn't it your duty to use it?"

Anakin's lungs emptied as he reflexively deactivated his lightsaber. He slowly stepped backward, his breath coming out in small jolts."I...I-I...I'm going to..."

Before he could finish his sentence, he found himself sprinting out of the room.


	15. Chapter 15

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Hey there! Thanks for reviewing as always. No, I have NOT forgotten about this fic - I participated in National Novel Writing Month and then got busy with school and Christmas prepping (not to mention that this was an INSANELY hard chapter), but I'm back now.

Chapter 15

Anakin sat alone in the empty Jedi Council chamber, so exhausted that he felt like he could sink through the seat. With every blink, Palpatine's face materialized in his head, giving that warm, inviting smile, that smile that brought ease to Anakin's heart even when he felt completely distraught. Sith...why couldn't he connect that word with that face even after what he had just witnessed?

He didn't want to think of what Mace might be doing to the chancellor right now, but it insisted on driving itself into his head. Palpatine wouldn't go quietly with the Jedi...so what would Mace do then?

His gloved hand pinched his Jedi robe, his eyes trying to focus on the dark fabric. Something inanimate, unchanging, unfeeling, simply there. Not like people. People could change...people could _betray._

He rose without thought and walked trance-like to the window, Palpatine's voice humming in his mind, telling him that the last hope of saving Padme was vanishing. The sun was setting, giving an orange tint to the speeders, making the buildings glow as if they were preparing themselves for the approaching darkness.

The light irritated his eyes, but he barely squinted as he stared ahead at one particular building, imagining the goings-on within it. Maybe Padme was cooking supper while Han played in the living room. Or they could be on the sofa, Han feeling his mother's stomach for the baby's kicks. He pictured his son's scraggly hair...his wife's gorgeous eyes...their smiles oblivious to the future. It felt as if Padme were already dead and he was looking at a far-away memory.

Tears were streaming down his face for apparently no reason. His real arm reached into empty air, subconsciously reaching for his wife, hungering for her, aching for her, yet her image played with his mind like a fantasy, a nonexistent being.

_Go to her_, a silent voice was saying, tugging him with invisible hands. Anakin found himself obeying, exiting the room and heading towards the speeder landing platform as if in a dream. His consciousness barely grasped that he was climbing into his speeder - all it could see was his family...and with that came a desire to savor what little was left of his time with them.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Daddy!"

No sooner had Anakin landed on the speeder platform than his son came running up to him, grinning widely, as if he expected Anakin to bring him a present. "Daddy! Why're you home early?"

Anakin felt the color draining from his face. "H-H-Han...where's Mommy?"

"She's makin dinner," answered Han. "Wanna go talk to her?"

Anakin caressed his son's neck with both hands, staring ahead at the dusky skies as if looking for Padme on one of the passing speeders. "Han..." A twitch in his Force senses prevented him from completing whatever sentence he was starting, slowly throbbing in his nerves, penetrating his cells.

Mace was there now...threatening the chancellor with his lightsaber...placing him under arrest...

Anakin sank to his knees, squeezing the boy as if he would die if he let go, his hands shaking as he did so. He pressed his eyes shut, willing the vision to go away, yet the more he tried to resist it, the more vivid it became. Tears escaped the containment of his eyelids and drizzled down his cheek, all hope for the future leaking out with it.

Why did he feel as if Padme's fate was sealed, that the only hope of saving her was fading away? It was a story, after all...only a story...a story that could very well be untrue. Yet it was his one source of comfort - the single light shining the way to escaping the future laid out for him...now being extinguished.

"Daddy?" Han's tiny voice registered only slightly into Anakin's mind. "What's wrong?"

Anakin pulled out of the hug, staring at his son's hazel eyes. "Han...why don't you go help Mommy out with dinner?"

"I did already," said Han. "She said she wanna do it by herself tonight."

"Well...I bet she'd like you keeping her company," said Anakin, willing his son to ignore the tears on his cheeks. "Daddy...Daddy has something important he needs to do."

"What?" said Han, his eyes wide with worry.

Anakin ran his hand through his son's hair, the words seeming to explode out of his mouth without thought or planning. "I need to go protect Mommy...I need to save her from my dreams."

"No," Han insisted, tugging at his father's robe. "I don't want you to go. Stay here, Daddy. Stay wit' me."

Anakin kissed Han's forehead. "I'll be back soon, sweetheart. I promise."

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

In his entire life of fleeing from adversaries and disasters, Anakin had never run as fast as he was now. It seemed like the Force was pushing him, increasing his speed into the chancellor's office, his mind thinking nothing except prayers that he wasn't too late.

He could only stop when he found them. The window was shattered, bringing a freezing wind into the office. Palpatine was crouched down next to what used to be the window, his back against the wall, seemingly helpless against Mace's lightsaber.

"You are under arrest, _my lord,_" Mace was saying.

Anakin inched forward, his eyes wide with a strange sort of fear, thinking he saw dead bodies hiding in the shadows and wondering whether or not they were real.

"Anakin!" Palpatine cried. "I told you it would come to this! See what the Jedi have done? They're taking over!"

"Anakin, stay out of this," Mace commanded, pushing his lightsaber forward, forcing Palpatine to scrunch himself further against the wall.

"Anakin, help me!" Palpatine whimpered, appearing more helpless than the young Jedi had ever seen him. "Help me!"

Anakin felt his breath being sucked out of him, Mace's intentions screaming in his mind. "You...you can't do this. He's an unarmed prisoner."

The Jedi master looked in his eyes. "He's too dangerous to be kept alive."

"He must stand trial!" Anakin yelled, protesting Mace's actions yet somehow not at all surprised by them.

"He has control of the senate and the courts!" Mace yelled back, keeping his lightsaber pointed at the chancellor.

"Anakin, please, don't let him kill me!" Palpatine wailed, curling up against the wall like a frightened child.

Mace glared down at him, his eyes unblinking, flaring with hatred. "You have lost," he said simply.

The chancellor's voice started as the faintest of whispers but gradually expanded into a shout so loud it seemed to fill the air. "No...no...no...no...no..._YOU_ WILL DIE!" With that, shots of lightning seemed to explode out of his hands, the Jedi barely able to absorb it in his lightsaber. Anakin knew what it was...he had seen it before...emitting from Count Dooku's hands...the ability that labeled him beyond a doubt as a Sith.

_Sith..._yet Anakin's mind still couldn't connect that word with Palpatine, even when the proof was right in front of him. His irrational mind still insisted that the kindly mentor he'd known for fifteen years was the _real _Palpatine...and he was still there, buried beneath that menacing figure.

Mace was grunting, struggling with all his will to hold back the lightning. "Traitor...traitor...traitor..." he huffed between every labored breath, his sweating face reflecting the lightning's glow, giving him a sinister aura. Though he was fighting for his life, Anakin couldn't bring himself to feel any compassion for him, couldn't command himself to intervene for Mace's life. It was as is something had frozen his body, leaving him with only the ability to observe.

"Anakin...Anakin...help me!" the chancellor's voice cried. "I c-c-can't...I can't hold it much longer..." He sounded as meek and frightened as a terrified child. The young Jedi's eyes slowly, carefully turned to face his former mentor, widening at the sight of him. When Mace's lightsaber blocked the lightening, it backfired on Palpatine's face, appearing to carve into his skin, giving him more scars and wrinkles with every passing second. His image blurred as Anakin's eyes moistened, his soul aching to do something to help the chancellor, but once again he was frozen.

At last the lightning ceased, and Palpatine lay gasping for air, his face unrecognizable. "Anakin..." he mumbled, as if he thought he was still in the fight. "Anakin...Anakin...Anakin..." A trickle of blood drizzled out of his mouth and down his skin, his eyes closed, his body shaking in pain, his breath heaving as if all the air around him was vanishing. Anakin's heart pounded, his nerves trembling, and yet he still couldn't move or speak.

"I'm going to end this right now," Mace declared, raising his lightsaber, ready to strike the final blow.

Anakin suddenly and unexpectedly regained control of his voice. "No! You can't do this!"

"He's too dangerous to be kept alive!" Mace yelled, not moving his vicious eyes away from Palpatine's withering form.

Anakin's words exploded out of him like a wave crashing through a barrier. "I _need_ him!" He hadn't chosen to say that, but once the words left his mouth, a full realization that they were the complete, undeniable truth overtook his mind. Sith, chancellor, whatever he was...Anakin needed him...and so did his family.

"No...no...NO!" he screamed, lunging forward at the Jedi Master. Nearly before he knew what he was doing, he had activated his own lightsaber, and without a second to consider anything, he plunged it into Mace's chest.

Then everything became hazy, as if a dark cloud was infesting Anakin's thoughts and senses. He heard Mace's final gasps, saw Palpatine's lightening shoot forward once again, this time at a defenseless one, saw Mace's body fall...yet his spirit was detached, as if it had floated out of his body forever. Murder...he had just committed murder...he should be frightened...he should be overwhelmed with guilt...he should be feeling..._something._ Not this emptiness.

"What have I done??" he cried, trying with his last stretch of will to force emotion on himself. For a tiny second, he felt something, some sense that a terrible thing had happened, but it couldn't last. He sank into a chair, complete exhaustion of body, mind, and spirit overcoming him. Nothing was left..._nothing._ It was as if he had died with his consciousness forgetting to leave his body.

Palpatine rose, bringing his hellishly scarred face into Anakin's full view, yet the Jedi felt neither fear nor disgust. Nothing at all except a vague sense of...reverence. With every step the Sith Lord took, Anakin's inner self saw him more and more like a god. A face materialized in his head...the face of a little boy. The boy he had taken upon himself to care for and protect. And there was only one way to do so now...he saw it so clearly, it shone in his head like the brightest of suns. Only one way...only one hope...

And his family was now his only responsibility.

As if hypnotized, as if an outside force were controlling his body, Anakin sank to his knees, tears of desperation streaming down his face as his visions of the future pounded in his mind. "Help me...please...please help me...I'll do anything...just help me save Padme's life. I need her...and...and _Han_ needs her." He bowed his head as if in prayer. "Please...help my little boy."

Palpatine's voice was low and slurred, barely recognizable, yet as pleasing to Anakin's ears as the sweetest music. "The Force is stroooonng with you," he bellowed. "A powerful Sith you will become." His bony hand reached out to caress Anakin's hair, his fingertips digging into his skin. "Henceforth, you shall be known as Darth..._Vader._"

Some small part of him wanted to reject the new name, but it was quickly drowned by the wave of relief, the bright hope he saw, his family safe and remaining so.

"Thank you...my master."


	16. Chapter 16

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks for the reviews as always. Sorry it's been so long - I've been really sick lately. Yeah yeah, I know many of you were hoping Anakin wouldn't turn, but it's necessary for the upcoming changes I have in mind.

Btw, part of this chapter is inspired by an early version of the ROTS script, where Palpatine flat out told Anakin that he was the one who created him through the Force.

Chapter 16

Han stood on the balcony, gazing out at the darkening skies, trying to spot his father's speeder in the hundreds of vehicles passing by. He had been there since he finished his dinner, anxiously waiting for his father's return, waiting for him to keep his promise.

He always kept his promises, right? So why was he taking so long?

The boy's head turned slightly at the sound of 3PO's metal footsteps approaching him, but one eye was still pointed towards the Jedi Temple, still anticipating his father to come home.

"Little Master Han," the droid said cheerfully, "your mother wishes you to come inside." He brushed the child's shoulder with his cold metal fingers.

"No," Han said determinedly. "I wanna wait for Daddy."

3PO brushed Han's neck, making the child cringe from the coldness. "Do not worry about your father, little Master Han. He shall be home very shortly. No need to wait up for him."

"I wanna wait anyway," Han persisted, going back to leaning on the bottom rail.

"Han?" a gentle voice said behind him, making him almost automatically turn to face his mother and her large stomach that hid his baby sister or brother.

"Han, it's time for you to go to bed," Padme continued.

"I wanna wait for Daddy," Han repeated, prepared to scream and cry if he had to.

His mother sighed, as if she sensed something bad that she wasn't telling Han. He didn't like it when the grownups kept things from him - it made him feel like he wasn't important. Why shouldn't he know if something was happening to Daddy?

"All right," his mother finally said. "But you have to wait inside, and get your pajamas on first."

"Okay," said Han, smiling up at her.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Hours passed as the mother and son sat together on the couch, the child with his head on his mother's pregnant stomach, the mother stroking her son's hair. Han had long ago fallen asleep, leaving Padme alone in her vigil. Alone to watch smoke rising from the Jedi Temple. Alone to tremble as she counted the minutes when her husband still hadn't arrived. Alone for her mind to imagine what could have happened to him.

Who would attack the Jedi Temple? The Sith? The Separatists? Could she have somehow prevented this? At this point, did it matter? There was nothing she could do now...nothing except imagine...imagine and pray.

Han grunted and dug his head further into his mother's body, stimulating her to rub his ear and further reminding her of why she couldn't go help Anakin. Her body no longer belonged only to her...her life no longer belonged only to her. Her free hand slowly crept up her stomach, in which her unborn baby suddenly kicked, as if pleading his or her mother to keep him or her safe.

The lights outside were expanding into stars, blurred from her tears. Her attempt to keep them inside her eyes quickly failed, releasing quiet streams down her cheeks. She lacked any Force sensitivity, and yet her spirit was screaming to her. Something was very, very wrong.

Something involving her husband.

The tiny buzzing of 3PO's step did little to arouse her from the stupor. He hobbled in front of and gently bowed his head. "Miss Padme, is there anything I can do for you before I shut down for the night?"

Padme brushed her tears with her free hand. "No thank you, 3PO."

"Oh dear," the droid said, apparently detecting concern. "Shall I remain active until Master Anakin returns?"

Padme inhaled in her sobs. "No...no...I'll wait for him myself."

The protocol droid hobbled away, muttering, "Oh, I feel so...helpless."

His simple words perfectly articulated what Padme felt.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Padme couldn't tell whether or not she had fallen asleep. All she knew was that she seemed to have been sitting for an eternity, only realizing that her eyes were closed when she heard the beautiful sound of a speeder landing outside. She nearly flew off the sofa without remembering that her son was with her.

"Han," she whispered excitedly, shaking Han's shoulder. "Wake up, Daddy's home!"

The child blinked a few times without speaking, but his open eyes were all his mother needed to free herself from the sofa. She dashed out to the landing platform, her eyes welling up when they caught a glimpse of Anakin dismounting from his speeder.

"Ani!" she yelled, throwing her arms around her husband. "Are you all right? I heard there was an attack on the Jedi Temple."

"I'm fine," said Anakin, gripping the back of her head with his artificial hand. "Are you and Han all right? How about the baby?" His voice was low, distant, as if his mind were far away.

"Daddy?" a small, tired voice called. Both heads turned to see Han inching onto the landing platform in his pajamas.

"Hey kiddo," Anakin said casually, walking up to his son and ruffling his hair, again with his artificial hand. Though Han seemed to be half-asleep, he flinched slightly, as if he too thought Anakin seemed...different.

"Ani, what happened?" Padme persisted.

Anakin's eyes lowered, staring at the floor. "Master Windu is dead."

Padme's mouth went dry, her breath coming in and out in uneven bits. "How...how did that happen?"

Anakin looked back up at her, his eyes stone-cold, void of emotion. "He tried to assassinate the chancellor."

"What??" Padme exclaimed. There were a thousand other words her mind wanted to say, but only that single exclamation reached her mouth.

"Yes, the Jedi have declared war on the Republic," Anakin said in that same cold tone, as if he had never been part of the Jedi himself and he were merely reciting a fact disconnected from him.

"Anakin..." The senator was aching to ask how Mace died, but for some reason her lips were incapable of forming the words, as if an inaudible voice was screaming at her not to ask.

Her husband strode into the living room, Han silently trailing behind him, as if following a stranger. Padme gripped her large stomach as she followed, her mind trying to take hold of the idea that Mace Windu was dead, that the Jedi and the Republic no longer worked together. Why couldn't she grasp it? It was as if she was dreaming and expecting to awaken soon.

"Ani...are you sure you're all right?" she struggled to say as the family made their way towards the bedrooms, Han tiptoing behind them, his eyes wide with question.

Anakin looked at her, the darkness obstructing his face. "My loyalties lie with the chancellor, and the Republic, and with you. I will not join the betrayers."

"But...but what about Obi-Wan?" Padme wasn't sure why she brought up her husband's old master. Of course he wouldn't have been in on this plot...if such a plot even existed.

Anakin inhaled, shaking his head. "I don't know. We can only hope that he's remained faithful to the chancellor."

The chancellor. The chancellor, who was keeping them at war much longer than necessary. The chancellor, who was claiming more power for himself every day. The chancellor, who seemed to be wrapping everyone in a scheme to take over the Republic.

Seeming to sense her discomfort, Anakin wrapped her face in his hands. "It's all right, my love. The chancellor's given me a very important assignment. Tomorrow I'm going to the Mustafar system to end this war once and for all."

Han wrapped his arms around his mother, pressing his cheek against her nightgown. She caressed his neck, silently communicating that they both feared the same thing, that they both sensed that something was very, very wrong.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Anakin lay in bed thoroughly exhausted yet unable to sleep. Memories of the day's events danced in his mind without attaching themselves to his soul, like dreams that meant nothing in the real world. He had killed Mace Windu, killed several Jedi, killed the Jeid children - he knew this, yet he wasn't affected. Some vague sense told him that he _should_ be affected, that he should be overcome by grief and regret, but when he searched himself for any emotion, any true feeling, he found only eternal emptiness.

He knew some of those children he killed today. Yes, some of them looked up to him as a role model. That little boy today...the one who begged him for help...the one who wasn't much older than his own son...he was dead. Dead...gone from the world and gone from Anakin's soul. His small pleas ran through the newly-christened Sith's mind like the story of a tragedy that occurred long long ago with no emotional impact on the present.

No...it had to happen. A pulsing sensation seemed to be ejecting through his spirit that he was doing his rightful duty...that he was fulfilling his destiny. Destiny that had been revealed to him that very evening, the true secret of his virgin birth, told by his master.

Master...creator...or from a certain point of view..._father._

"_He could use the Force to influence the midichlorians to create life..."_

"_He taught his apprentice everything he knew..."_

"_His apprentice..."_

Finally the truth. The truth about Palpatine, the truth about his creation, the truth about everything. Perhaps he subconsciously knew the truth all along. He was never destined to be a Jedi, never meant to destroy the Sith.

As his eyes closed and the world faded away, only one thought remained.

_This is meant to be._


	17. Chapter 17

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Hey all! Sorry for my long time not updating...I ran into a large writer's block, let's say. ;)

Chapter 17

A sharp kick from the baby jolted Padme out of her restless dreams of which she remembered almost nothing. Han crying...Anakin yelling...that was all. She opened her eyes finding herself alone in bed, sunlight streaming into her room. Her hand went to her stomach, feeling the spot where the baby had kicked her. It would be arriving early...possibly any day now, though she had no idea what was making her think that.

"Mommy!"

Still pajama-clad, Han came dashing into his parents' room and leapt onto the bed, throwing his arms around his mother's neck and murmuring happily.

"Hey sweetheart, why the special greeting?" Padme asked, struggling to get her arms out from under his body so she could hug him back.

"There's the most beautiful woman in the galaxy!" a voice exclaimed before Han could answer. Padme looked up to see her husband standing in the doorway, already fully dressed, carrying a tray of food. He strode up to his wife and gently placed the tray in her lap. "Han and I made you breakfast."

"I put butter on the toast!" Han exclaimed, scooting over to the side so his mother could enjoy her meal.

Padme ran her fingers through her son's hair, gently prying apart one of his tangles. "That's my big boy."

Anakin leaned over and kissed his wife's lips. "Enjoy, honey. I have to get going."

The memories of last night suddenly came flooding into Padme's mind. Mace Windu was dead...many other Jedi were dead...the Jedi and the Republic were now against each other...Anakin was leaving...

"Anakin...no," she found herself exclaiming without her brain making any decision to do so.

"What?"

Padme looked up into her husband's eyes, the eyes in which she normally sought comfort, but today could find none. "Ani...I don't want you to go," she stammered.

Anakin sighed like a parent explaining to his child why he had to go to work. "Padme, this is very important to end the war..."

"I know," Padme blurted out. "But...but...the baby...what if it comes while you're gone?"

Anakin smiled at her, shaking his head slightly. "Now come on Padme, you're not due for a month."

"Babies come early all the time," Padme argued, grabbing his artificial hand. "Don't you want to see your child be born?"

"And I _will,_" said Anakin, sliding his metal hand away from her grip and patting her shoulder with it, bringing her shoulder pain. "Have faith, my love. Things will soon be set right."

He leaned over and kissed her lips, slowly, sensually, the same way he always kissed her, and yet to Padme it felt...different, as different as if it were someone else kissing her. Something was..._missing._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Obi-Wan's feet felt heavy as he slowly made his way down the hallway that led to Padme's apartment, his stomach churning with every step. Nothing, not even the Force, could calm his mind, nothing could dismiss that security holo from playing endlessly in his thoughts. Anakin...his brother Anakin..._slaughtering children._

Perhaps the recording was fake, some desperate part of him kept thinking, though his rational side, his evil, cold rational side, insisted that the recording was genuine. The face was Anakin's, the body was Anakin's, the murderer was Anakin.

Padme wouldn't comply...he was almost completely certain of that, but she was the only link to Anakin's whereabouts he could think of. Still...he found himself hoping that she wouldn't tell him where the Sith was, that he would remain without anything to act on and Anakin would remain hidden.

The evil door to Padme's apartment appeared in front of the Jedi much too quickly, leaving him at a loss for what to do next. His hand seemed to have lost the strength even to knock. Where _was_ his hand? His entire arms were numb, unable to move or feel anything.

"Mommy, I wanna feel the baby again!"

"Patience, Han, it will kick again soon."

The two voices from behind the door sent a whirlwind into Obi-Wan's mind. _Baby?_ Padme was pregnant? But who could be the...?

Of course. Once the initial shock passed over him, he couldn't believe he hadn't figured it out sooner. He'd long ago figured out that Anakin and Padme had feelings for each other, but he would have _thought_ them to have enough sense not to risk everything like this. At least Padme would, he would have been certain...but then again, Anakin's influence might have led her to go against her common sense.

Somehow Obi-Wan found his hands. Somehow his hands found the Force. Somehow he found the ability to use the Force to open the door, bringing a very surprised Padme and Han into his view. The mother was seated on the sofa next to her son, who had a hand on her very plump stomach. There could be no doubt now - she was indeed pregnant.

"Obi-Wan...?" Padme stammered in a soft voice, too startled to even question why he was here or why he had opened her door without permission.

The Jedi gave a long, slow nod. "Well, this explains a lot." He turned his head slightly to the side to wave at Han, who was smiling at him, oblivious to the moment's importance.

Padme's eyes widened. "You...you know?"

"I had my suspicions before this," Obi-Wan interrupted, quickly adding, "No need to worry, your secret is safe." He stretched his neck anxiously. "May I come in?"

The senator gave a small nod, her mouth hanging open, still too stunned to speak.

Obi-Wan strode into the apartment, seating himself next to Han. For several lingering moments, the only sound to be heard was the trickling of the small fountain. The child didn't even greet the Jedi or shift around in his seat. The trickling fountain seemed to overpower the room, trying to convince all present not to disturb it while it sat in meditation.

"Padme," Obi-Wan finally forced himself to say, "you trust me, right?"

"I don't know if I trust anyone anymore," Padme said sullenly. "After what Palpatine did..."

"Yes, yes, I've heard," Obi-Wan hastily interjected, his statement ending with a long sigh. "I understand your being wary of me, but I at least hope you didn't believe everything he said about the Jedi."

Padme looked down at her stomach. "I don't _want _to...but..."

"Daddy said the Jedi turn bad," Han suddenly blurted.

"_Han!" _Padme exclaimed, gently swatting his shoulder.

Obi-Wan shifted his focus to the child's wide hazel eyes. "Is that what he said?"

"Yeah," said Han, nodding rhythmically.

Padme sighed as if trying to empty her lungs of every trace of air. "Yes...he told us that the Jedi had tried to take over the Republic."

Obi-Wan's hand brushed over his sticky forehead, the sweat soaking his fingers. He stared ahead at the fountain, with its endlessly predictable streams, its unchanging, hypnotic ripples. "Anakin...he's been twisted by the chancellor's lies. We've all been deceived...but Anakin most of all."

"What do you mean?"

How could he answer that? Was there any possible way to break this news gently? Despite all his efforts to calm himself with the Force, his hands insisted on trembling.

"Daddy got scared that Mommy gonna die soon," Han blurted again, as if he had decided it was time for all secrets to come out. "He said he gonna help save her."

The Jedi gave a long breath, staring at Han in complete seriousness. "Did he?"

"Obi-Wan, what's this all about?" Padme said hurriedly in a worried voice. "Why are you even here?"

The Jedi continued to look at Han. "Han, what did your daddy do to save your mommy?"

The child's eyes were wide and his lips pursed. "I dunno."

"You don't?" asked Obi-Wan. "He never told you what he was planning to do?"

"_Why_ are you interrogating my son??" Padme exclaimed with sudden harshness, her eyebrows twitching. "Obi-Wan, please, just tell me what's going on."

Obi-Wan couldn't bring himself to look Anakin's wife directly in the eye. "Padme...listen...listen very carefully..." He inhaled until his lungs expanded to their limit. "Padme...Anakin has turned to the dark side."

"You're wrong!!" Padme shouted. "How...how can you even _say_ that??"

Obi-Wan slowly looked up, seeing that although Padme's voice was harsh, her eyes were betraying worry. "Padme, do you think this is easy for me to tell you?" He felt his voice breaking up more with every word. "The chancellor has taken your husband. He has become a very great threat, don't you see? I need to know where he is."

Padme's chest shook violently, her breath breaking into gasps. "No...no...you're wrong...you're wrong..."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, desperately wishing he didn't have to tell her this next piece of information. "I have seen..." A barricade seemed to be hindering his every word. "...I have seen...a security hologram of him...killing the Jedi younglings..." His eyes opened, staring directly at Han's still, silent face. "Some of them no older than your son."

Padme gripped her little boy, pressing his head against her chest. "I-I-I...I don't believe you...I can't...no..."

"Is Daddy bad?" Han said in a small, frightened voice.

"_No_, sweetheart." Padme's stroked her child's hair, her face cringing.

The Jedi sighed solemnly, silently willing this reality to vanish, silently begging time to turn back and return the old Anakin to them. "Padme...think about it..._think. _Think about the galaxy, think about you, think about your son." He stared at her large stomach. "Think about your _baby._"

Padme stared at him, her eyes betraying wetness. "You would have our baby grow up without its father?" She looked down at Han. "You would have Han _lose_ his father??"

Han sniffed loudly. "Is Daddy gonna die?"

"Padme, I have no choice," Obi-Wan said firmly. "Do you think I _want _to do this??" He slowly reached over to stroke the child's weeping face. "If Anakin could slaughter the children in the Jedi Temple, what might he do to Han?"

Han flinched, pushing himself out of Obi-Wan's grip and burying his face in his mother's dress. Padme closed her eyes, facing straight ahead, reminding Obi-Wan of a Jedi in meditation.

Perhaps she was trying to think like a Jedi.

"Let me go to him," she whispered.

"What?"

Padme opened her eyes and stared firmly at Obi-Wan, her eyes flaring with determination. "If what you say is true, I can help him. I can turn him back, Obi-Wan.

"Padme, that's impossible..."

"Please, let me try," Padme shouted. "For the sake of my son. For the sake of my unborn baby. For the sake of _everyone._"

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, breathing deeply, sensing great danger with Padme's intentions but even greater danger with the alternate option. "All right, you may go to him. But I'm coming with you."


	18. Chapter 18

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Yes yes, I know I've been incredibly absent from FFN lately. I've been busy finishing up college, graduating from college (YAY!), working at night, and trying to find a permanent job, so fanfiction is on the back burner right now. Anyway, thanks as always to all the reviewers.

Chapter 18

_Mustafar_

Anakin stood perfectly still, gazing out at the endless ocean of lava, the glare reflecting off of his sweat-drenched face, unable to think of the leaders he had just slain. Killing was becoming much easier every time he did it. It was natural, something he was created for, something necessary.

Life ended for all, that was the way of things.

The way for all except for him...and his Padme.

She would be safe and they would be together. Their children would grow up in a world of prosperity, ruled by their parents. There would be no death for Padme...for Han...for his unborn child...for anyone he cared about. These sacrifices were necessary for the ones he loved.

The single tear streaming down his cheek went unnoticed. He would refuse to notice it.

- - - - - - - - -

_En route to Mustafar_

After Padme put the ship into hyperspace, she refused to leave the cockpit, even when her son asked her to play with him. She could only stare out at the racing white light, choking down her sobs, barely capable of telling Han to go play with Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan supplied Han with some of the coloring books and toys Padme had packed, but they did little to distract him from the issues at hand. He colored a few pictures, swinging his feet over the edge of their seat, but his constant repetition of, "Is Daddy bad?" wrenched at Obi-Wan's heart more every time he asked it. Never could he bring himself to give a direct answer.

"Your mommy wants to help your daddy," he said awkwardly after the fifth time Han asked the question. "That's why we're going to the fire planet."

"But why is Mommy sad?" Han persisted, staring at the Jedi with large eyes.

Obi-Wan sighed. Nothing in his years of Jedi training had ever taught him how to comfort a terrified child. Anakin often cried about being separated from his mother when he was a child, but he had been older than Han and he also knew at the time that his mother was safe.

"Han..." Obi-Wan finally said, "...it's getting late. Maybe you should try to get some sleep." He reached over and gently scooped the slightly-resisting child into his lap, resting his head against his broad chest.

"No," said Han. "I have a bad dream in me and if I go to sleep I'll pretend it's real."

Obi-Wan found himself flabbergasted at the five-year-old's verbalization. He ran his fingers through Han's hair, attempting to soothe him with the Force. "Try thinking of nice things, Han. That will help your dreams."

"No it won't," Han protested.

"Try it anyway," Obi-Wan insisted, concentrating on soothing the child, attempting to refrain from thinking about Anakin. This quest would prove itself useless - he was almost certain of that. As far as he knew, no one had ever turned away from the dark side once consumed by it.

"Sleep, Han, sleep," he murmured, rocking the boy back and forth, rhythmically patting his back. After what was at least several minutes, Han's eyelids finally drooped. Obi-Wan soon found himself tiring as well, eventually following the child into relieving darkness.

- - - - - - - - -

Both Obi-Wan and Han were awakened by the jolt out of hyperspace. For a few glorious moments neither one recalled the tragic events of the day before, but reality quickly followed them into the waking world.

"Where's Mommy?" Han asked, his voice sounding desperate, his eyes welling.

Obi-Wan grasped the child's hand. "Come on, let's go find her. She probably wants some company."

- - - - - - -

Padme still sat in the cockpit. She hadn't eaten, hadn't slept, hadn't even left her seat. Her only movement had been the vaguest twitching of her hands; her mind's only activity was worrying about her husband. Even the baby moving within her couldn't divert her attention away from Anakin. Her eyes tried to focus on the red planet becoming larger and larger, but it blurred from her tears.

"Mommy!"

She saw her son running up to her and throwing his arms around her waist, but her only response was slightly rubbing his head. She felt Obi-Wan's hand on her shoulder, but her only response was lightly shoving it off.

"Padme, listen," Obi-Wan said in a kindly but unmistakably firm manner. "You must prepare yourself for...for whatever happens."

She heard, but she would not accept.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Even after the ship landed, Padme couldn't find the will to move for several minutes. It wasn't until she saw Anakin running up to the ship in the dense steam and the rain of sparks when she finally seemed to regain some of her abilities.

"Daddy!" Han cried, waving pitifully at his father, who either didn't notice him or chose not to wave back.

Padme gripped her son's waving hand. "Come on, sweetheart."

Obi-Wan vigorously shook his head. "Padme, I don't think it's a good idea to bring..."

But before he could finish his warning, the mother and son dashed out of the ship.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Through the thick clouds, the overwhelming red glare, and the choking odor of ash and smoke, Anakin appeared almost as a ghost. It wasn't until he was close enough to actually touch his wife when he looked once more like he had substance.

The husband and wife threw their arms around each other as if they had been separated for years. "Ani..." Padme murmured. "Ani...Ani..."

"Daddy!" Han shouted, tugging on his father's robe, to which Anakin replied by rubbing his son's head with his artificial hand.

"What are you two doing here?" Anakin asked.

Padme breathed heavily, inhaling the dizzying fumes with every breath. "Obi-Wan...told me terrible things. H-h-he said...you've...turned to the dark side...killed children..."

Anakin roughly massaged the back of Padme's neck. "Obi-Wan is trying to turn you against me."

"He cares about us, Anakin," Padme pleaded. "About Han, about the baby...h-h-he knows, Ani. He knows everything."

Han was squeezing his father's leg. "Daddy, I don't want you to be bad."

Anakin's metal thumb brushed the child's shoulder. "Don't listen to the lies Obi-Wan tells you, son. Your daddy is becoming more powerful every day. He's going to make sure you and Mommy are safe. Nothing's going to take you away from me. _Nothing_."

Padme swallowed repeatedly as she gripped her husband's sweaty, sticky cheeks. "Come with me, Ani. Leave this behind while you still can. Do it for Han, do it for the baby..._please._"

Anakin's mouth stretched into an almost inhuman smile. "You don't understand, do you? We don't have to run away anymore." He stared directly at her, his irises glowing an inhuman yellow. "With my new powers, I can overthrow Palpatine and you and I can rule the galaxy together. Think of it Padme, the entire galaxy can be ours."

Padme's breath came out as rapidly as that of a frightened animal. "Wh-what...what happened to you? Obi-Wan...he was right...he was right..."

Anakin pointed a threatening finger at her, his voice growing louder. "Never mention Obi-Wan again. The Jedi turned against me - don't you turn against me too!"

Padme's head shook as her body trembled, tears streaming out of her eyes. "I don't know you anymore." She slowly reached over and began prying Han's left hand off of his father.

In what seemed like a millisecond, Anakin's metal hand grabbed Padme's wrist and yanked it off of Han's, squeezing until her hand turned white and she let out a cry of pain. "You will _not_ take my child away from me. I've done all this for you and him. All of this, all these sacrifices, they have been to save our family from destruction."

By now Han was crying, his face reddening. "Daddy...Daddy...let go...don't hurt Mommy..." he choked out between sobs that were lost to the deafening sounds of lava exploding.

Anakin let go, but only to swat his son's face, the metal hand leaving a dent in his cheek, making the child cry out harder, coughs and sobs heaving out of his throat, fighting each other, leaving him nearly unable to breathe.

"ANAKIN!" Padme cried, diving for her son, attempting to scoop him into her arms before Anakin shoved her aside, making her land in a heap on the scalding ground.

"He's _my_ son," Anakin yelled, grabbing Han's shoulders like a captor grabbing a prisoner, oblivious to the child's screams. "They can't take him away and neither can you!"

Padme struggled to ease her pregnant self to her feet. "H-h-how can you do this?" she sobbed pathetically. Once more she reached out to free her son from his father's tight grasp. "H-he's not safe with you, Ani. You've become something else. Please, if you love him at all, let him go."

"YOU'VE TURNED AGAINST ME!" Anakin screamed with immense hatred.

Han was now crying so loudly that he sounded like he was choking. "Daddy...Daddy...let go...let go of me..."

Anakin growled like an animal, reaching out with one hand while keeping the other firmly gripping his son's shoulder. He gripped his wife's neck with the Force, choking her, draining the breath from her.

"Anakin..." she whimpered before losing the ability to speak, before the color vanished from her face.

"LET HER GO, ANAKIN!" Obi-Wan's commanding voice yelled from the ship's ramp, though Han barely comprehended it. All he could see was his mother fading away through his thick tears.

"LET HER GO!"

Padme fell out of Anakin's grasp and into a heap on the ground, lifeless.

"MOMMY!!" Han screamed, struggling to get out of his father's grasp, kicking, fighting, using every bit of his strength to reach his mother's side, but Anakin's hard metal hand smashing against his face sent him down into blackness as well.


	19. Chapter 19

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks as always to the readers and reviewers!

Chapter 19

Han regained consciousness lacking the strength to open his eyes. His head felt as if someone were trapped inside his skull, pounding to get out. The voice of his babysitter droid seemed to come from far away, his words illegible for several minutes.

"Oh dear oh dear, little Master Han has been most unresponsive, R2. I fear we may have lost him."

R2 gave a melancholy beep just as Han found the ability to speak. "3...P...O?" he whispered, his throat hurting with every syllable.

"Oh, thank the maker!" the protocol droid exclaimed. "R2 and I have been worried sick about you."

"Where's Mommy?" Han asked in a dazed yet scared voice, his sticky eyes slowly blinking open and then squinting from 3PO's shiny body.

Although 3PO's face was incapable of displaying emotion, his hesitation before speaking made him appear almost sad. "Oh...perhaps you should recover your strength before you see her."

"I wanna see her now," Han insisted, his voice weak but full of determination.

"Little Master Han, I do not think this is a good..."

"I want Mommy NOW!" Shouting that last word shot pain through the child's throat, but right now he didn't care.

"Oh...well if you insist." 3PO bent over and carefully, awkwardly scooped the child into his arms. His cold, hard body made Han yearn more and more for his mother's warmth. His mother would make things better. She would set things right.

But his sweet delusion could only last until they reached his Mommy. She lay motionless on the bunk, her face horribly pale, dark bruises on her head and wrist, deep indents on her neck.

"Mommy?" Han whispered, still in the droid's arms. When she gave no reply, he practically flew out of 3PO's protective grasp and onto the bed next to her, though there was barely enough space for him.

"Mommy?" he repeated, shaking her arm. "Mommy? Wake up! WAKE UP!"

She gave a soft, weak groan, but her eyes remained closed.

Han thumped on her pregnant stomach, as if urging the baby to awaken its mother with kicks. "Mommy...wake...up..." he gasped out between sobs.

Just then Obi-Wan entered the ship, appearing tired and out of sorts, his face soaked in sweat, his hand tightly wrapped around Anakin's lightsaber, as if fearful of letting it go.

"Obi!" Han exclaimed, brushing his hand over his eyes. "Where's Daddy?"

Obi-Wan paid the child no notice, instead placing his hand on Padme's forehead.

She finally stirred, but only slightly. Her eyes struggled open, taking long, slow blinks. "Obi-Wan..." she said, her voice a raspy, shaky whisper, "...is Anakin all right?"

Han quickly grabbed his mother's hand in both of his own tiny ones. "Mommy! Mommy!"

There was the tiniest hint of a pained smile in Padme's lips. "H-H-H-Haaaannnnnn..."

But Han would never know what she was going to say after his name, for he felt her arm fall limp and saw her eyes close once again. His eyes filled with tears so thick that they completely obscured his vision, making his mother disappear into a sea of meaningless blurs. Even Obi-Wan's gentle hands stroking his back couldn't comfort him.

"She needs medical attention," the Jedi declared. "Right away."

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

_Polis Masa Medical Center_

Waiting.

Han had always hated waiting, the seconds stretching into hours, always taunting him to think of something that _wasn't now_ when _now_ seemed to be lasting forever. Waiting for supper to be ready, waiting for his birthday, waiting for Daddy or Mommy to come home, he hated it all.

But all that waiting couldn't compare to _this_ waiting. _This _was a different and infinitely more torturous kind of waiting. This kind of waiting couldn't be distracted by toys or playtime. This kind of waiting could only be spent pressing his face against the glass, staring down at his Mommy, willing her to move, to speak, to give some sign of life.

None of the grownups would tell him what was happening to Mommy, even though he had been there when the medical droid said she was dying. The grownups seemed unable to even look him in the face, as if afraid of how he would react to the notion.

He didn't know how he was reacting. Earlier, he had cried and wailed for his Mommy, but now he was standing perfectly still, the glass fogging up from his breath. Mommy was dying. The words brought his headache back. They made him dizzy. Maybe this was only another bad dream, and soon Mommy and Daddy would come to wake him up.

So why weren't they coming? He wanted them to come _now._

_Now!_

But the only thing that came now was more waiting. Waiting for Mommy to die.

Just like Daddy said she would.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Obi-Wan carried Han to Padme's side. She was conscious now, but screaming in agony, and not from the normal pain one experiences during childbirth, either.

"Mommy!" Han cried, reaching out his arms.

Obi-Wan set the child down next to his mother, silently praying that his presence would grant her strength to survive her childbirth, remind her of what she still had to live for.

"Mommy," Han repeated, as if that were the only word left in his vocabulary.

Padme gave no acknowledgment of her son's presence. Her screams intensified as the medical droids steadied her body. For a few long, draining moments, her cries overtook any other sound in the room. Only an infant's wail briefly calmed her down.

The newborn kicked its arms and legs wildly, as if desperate to be in its mother's arms. The medical droid handed the baby to Obi-Wan, who wrapped it up in a blanket, in the process noting that it was a boy.

"It's a boy, Padme," he coaxed, holding the baby up to his mother.

"Luke..." Padme breathed, granting her child the name Anakin had picked for him long ago. Her breath came out in long huffs as she reached out to touch her son. "Oh Luke..."

"Look Han, you have a baby brother," Obi-Wan said, trying to sound encouraging but failing in his effort.

"I don' wanna baby brother!" Han shouted, his every word pierced by sobs. "I want my Mommy!"

Obi-Wan's heart was beating as rapidly as if he had just been in a battle. He wasn't even attempting to calm himself down with the Force. Not even the Force could comfort a child who was losing his mother.

The Jedi placed his hand on Padme's sweat-drenched cheek. "Padme...Padme...please try. Think of Han...think of your babies...please..."

The mother's every breath came out in a gasp. "I-i-i-it's...too late...too late..." The screams then returned, informing the medical droids that the second birth was about to happen, but this time her cries were mixed with Han's repeated cries of "MOMMY, DON'T DIE! I DON'T WANT YOU TO DIE!"

Once the second baby was out, Obi-Wan handed the baby boy back to the medical droid and took the second newborn into his arms. "It's a girl," he said, quickly bringing the small girl up to Padme's face. The baby's eyes were wide, staring directly at her mother.

"Leia..." Padme whispered, stroking the child's face. "My Leia..."

"Han, you have a baby brother _and_ a baby sister," said Obi-Wan, trying to sound optimistic yet finding himself unable to look the boy in the eye.

"I want Mommy," Han said simply through his tears, sounding perfectly willing to get rid of both the babies if that could stop his mother from dying.

With what seemed to be all her strength, Padme's arm stretched out, reaching for her adopted son, her fingers gently brushing his cheek. "H-H-H-H-Haaannnn..." she whispered, her eyes threatening on closing. "Han...my sweet little Han..."

"M-M-M-M-Mommy..." Han stuttered, his eyes filled with tears.

"Han..." Padme was struggling to keep her eyes open, desperately clinging to life. "I...love...you...Han...so very much."

"I love you too Mommy," Han said, unable to keep himself from sobbing once more.

Padme was gasping for air, death conquering her. "Be...brave...Han..." With her final bit of strength, her eyes moved upwards, staring up at Obi-Wan. "Obi-Wan...there's good in him...I know...I know there's...still..." A final exhale prevented her from ever finishing. Her head fell limply to the side and her eyes closed for the last time.

"MOOOOOOMMMMMMMYYYYYYYY!!" Han screamed, his cry echoing around the room.

Obi-Wan breathed deeply, struggling to prevent tears from leaking out of his own eyes, unable to believe what he had just witnessed. The baby girl in his arms began wailing as loudly as her big brother, as if she sensed that she just lost her mother forever.

Han clung to the Jedi's body. "OBI, DO SOMETHING!" he yelled desperately. "DO SOMETHING!"

"I can't do anything Han," Obi-Wan forced himself to say. "She's dead."

"NOOOOOO! NOOOOO! NOOOO!" Han's face was turning red from crying, his mouth etching lines in his cheeks. "I WANT MY MOMMY!! I WANT MY MOMMY!!"

"I know, Han, I know," Obi-Wan said feebly, reaching one arm down to stroke the child's back, although he knew fully-well that nothing could console Han right now. Yet he continued embracing Han with one arm and the baby girl in another, giving them someone to whom they could cry out their sorrow.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_En route to Naboo_

Bail Organa's ship was taking the group to Naboo, where Padme's funeral would be held. During the trip, Obi-Wan had managed to keep Han away from Padme's body, but that did nothing to help palliate his devastation. It was only now, after Han had fallen into a fitful sleep brought on by crying for hours, when he could finally discuss with Bail and Yoda about what to do with the babies.

"Hidden, safe, the children must be kept," Yoda was saying.

Obi-Wan nodded. "We must take them somewhere where the Sith won't sense their presence." _Where their father won't sense their presence,_ he thought.

Yoda stroked his chin. "Mmmm, split up they should be."

"My wife and I will take the girl," Bail offered. "We've always talked about adopting a baby girl. She will be loved with us."

Obi-Wan managed a small smile at Bail before turning to Yoda. "And what about the boy?"

"To Tatooine," Yoda replied. "To his family send him."

Owen and Beru Lars. Obi-Wan was sure they would take good care of him. "I will take the child and watch over him." He then looked down at Han, sleeping restlessly in his lap. "What about Han? I suppose he'll go to Padme's family on Naboo."

"No," Yoda said sternly. "Too easy for Darth Vader to find him there. First place he would look, that is."

Obi-Wan blinked at the old Jedi Master. "But where will he go then?"

"We would be happy to adopt Han as well," said Bail.

"No," Yoda repeated. "If find him there, Vader does, then find his daughter he also will."

Obi-Wan found himself clinging to the boy, wondering how he would ever break this news when he woke up. "Then where?"

"Back home to Corellia he must go," Yoda declared. "Put up for adoption, he must be."

Obi-Wan sighed, once more looking down at the sleeping child. This was exactly what Anakin was trying to _prevent_ when he adopted him.

But Anakin was gone now.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_Corellia_

Obi-Wan had tried to find the best orphanage he could, but there was little information available about any of the orphanages on Corellia. He could only hope that this one which _looked_ promising would take good care of Han. His heart felt heavy as he and Han approached the large building, the memories of when Anakin first brought the baby to the Jedi Temple pounding in his head.

Han had said very little during both the trip back to Coruscant to get his things and the trip here. During the entire time, he had been either crying in agony or completely silent. Obi-Wan wished he could find the perfect thing to say to him, but he knew that was of course impossible. He gripped the child's hand tightly as he knocked on the door, but Han once more said nothing, clinging onto the toy Corellian freighter he had gotten for his birthday as if it were his lifeline.

A woman of about forty with short dark hair greeted the pair. "Good morning," she said with a smile. "What can I do for you?"

Obi-Wan took a deep breath before speaking. "I have an orphan who needs a home."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Many years passed, but they were all the same for Han. The devastation from losing his parents quickly turned into anger. Anger at the orphanage, anger at his fellow orphans, anger at himself. As he grew older, he began getting into fights with the other children, for apparently no reason at all, which got him in constant trouble with the adults. He didn't have a single friend, nor did he try to make one. Whenever potential parents visited the orphanage, he would hide away, insisting that he didn't want new parents; he wanted his old ones back. No matter what the orphanage leaders did or said, he refused to change his mind. It was as if he were choosing to live in a delusion where someday Anakin and Padme would come back to find him.

Han Solo was never adopted.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

AN: My apologies to those who were hoping Padme wouldn't die and Anakin wouldn't turn. And yes, I realize that this has been more of a ROTS novelization than an actual fanfic so far - I couldn't change ROTS too much because that would wreck the changes I have in mind for later on, and I didn't want to skip ROTS because it would undermine the emotion. Well, things are going to be much more different now, so I want to thank all of you who have stuck through this fic.

Oh, and I also want to thank Phoebe, the little girl I babysit. She has been the inspiration for many of Han's antics throughout the story. (Yes, Han's "bad dream" line from the last chapter was a direct quote from her.) So, just in case she ever stumbles across this story when she's old enough to read it, thank you for being a great inspiration and a joy to babysit. :)

And incidentally, the story is **NOT OVER. **It's FAR from being over, so if you're still interested in reading, stay tuned.


	20. Chapter 20

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Wow...I actually have a quick update for once. Anyway, thanks as always to the reviewers.

Chapter 20

_Tatooine, Nineteen years later_

Obi-Wan breathed steadily as Luke drove the speeder through the Mos Eisley Spaceport, concentrating on letting the Force calm and guide him. So much had happened in so short a time that the old Jedi was still trying to adjust to it.

Reunited. The twins would finally be reunited. Although Leia's message said that her ship had fallen prey to the Imperials, Obi-Wan sensed so strongly that she and Luke would be reunited that he had to remind himself that they would need to get to Alderaan first.

Even in that tiny hologram, the grown-up Leia resembled her mother so much. The fierce determination, the passionate dedication to her cause, the quick thinking. _Padme would be proud of her_, Obi-Wan thought sullenly, wiping sweat off his nose with the collar of his robe. He swallowed as he glanced over at the other infant born on that fateful day, now grown into an adventurous young man. Part of him just wanted to tell Luke everything about his family, but he held himself back. The people who raised him had just died; he wasn't ready for another great shock so soon. He would learn when he was ready.

Obi-Wan swallowed, concentrating on shielding his emotions even though the boy wasn't yet trained to use his Force powers. What had become of Padme's _other_ child? Did that little boy he left at the orphanage ever find a home? Memories of Han had kept him awake many a night for the last nineteen years - in his dreams he often revisited the night of Padme's death, hearing the little child cry out for his mother.

"Do you really think we'll find a pilot here that will take us to Alderaan?" Luke was asking, his voice jolting the Jedi back into the real world. "Just where are we stopping, anyway?"

Obi-Wan tried not to show that he didn't actually have an answer to that question. His eyes darted around among the shady characters of different species pacing the streets. They needed a skilled pilot, yes, but they needed a pilot they could _trust_ to get them to Alderaan without shooting them to bits or turning them over to the Empire for money.

He reached out with the Force, brushing every building for someone who seemed to be at least a _bit_ honest...and nearly jumping with surprise when his mind explored the Mos Eisley Cantina, a bar that was known for its dangerous patrons. Normally, Obi-Wan wouldn't ever consider bringing Luke to a place like that, but this day had already proven itself to be far from normal.

But _how?_ And _why?_ He concentrated hard on the familiar Force signature, sensing so many changes - so much anger, so much pessimism, so much apathy - and yet it was unmistakably _him._ The Force didn't lie about things like this.

"We're stopping at the Mos Eisley Cantina, Luke," Obi-Wan announced. "Most of the best pilots will hang out there. Only be careful. It can be a little rough."

"I'm ready for anything," Luke said confidently, his blonde hair whipping around his face, his tone reminding Obi-Wan too much of his father.

Obi-Wan sighed softly, stroking his gray beard as he stared ahead through the crowd in the direction of the cantina.

_But are you ready to meet your big brother?_

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

For the briefest of seconds, Obi-Wan found himself hoping that the man approaching their table _wasn't_ the little boy he knew so long ago. The man before them resembled that child very little. His hair and eyes were the same shades of brown and hazel they had been back then, but his hair stuck out in all directions and his eyes gave off a world-weary, irritated expression, far from the wide, enthusiastic eyes he had when he was a boy. He carried a blaster in a holster hanging off of his hip, a necessity his parents would have hoped he would never need. A small scar now underlined his mouth, and he wore an old white shirt covered by an equally well-worn black vest - he had clearly become far too acquainted with the ways of the Imperial-controlled galaxy. Obi-Wan found himself feeling pangs of guilt for leaving the child to his fate.

When he sat down, he appeared to not recognize Obi-Wan at all, which was perhaps a good thing.

"Han Solo," the man introduced, his voice now deep and rough. "I'm captain of the Millennium Falcon. Chewie here tells me you're lookin' for passage to the Alderaan system." He nodded over at the large Wookiee seated next to him.

This _was_ Anakin and Padme's adopted son - there could be no doubt of that now. Obi-Wan's heart was racing, wanting to ask all sorts of questions but knowing that they would have to wait until later, as would the revelation.

"Yes indeed," he replied, "if it's a fast ship."

"Fast ship??" the man exclaimed, seeming offended by the mere suggestion that his ship might not be fast. "You've never heard of the Millennium Falcon??"

"Should I have?" Obi-Wan asked, looking Han straight in the eye, searching for some sign of recognition but finding none. As far as Han knew, Obi-Wan was nothing more than a complete stranger who insulted his ship.

"It's the ship that made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs," Han boasted. When neither Obi-Wan nor Luke gave any sign of having heard of that stunt, the pilot took a long swig of his drink, then leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "I've outrun Imperial starships. Not the local bulk cruisers, mind ya - I'm talkin' about the big Corellian ships now."

Obi-Wan did his best to conceal the sigh emitting from his nose. He focused his attention on the band's upbeat music that was drifting all over the dimly-lit cantina. There would be a _lot_ to talk about later.

"She's fast enough for you, old man," Han continued, rubbing his thumbs together, a habitual gesture brought on by years of settling deals. "What's the cargo?"

"Only passengers," Obi-Wan replied. "Myself, the boy, two driods..." He leaned forward until his nose was almost touching Han's. "...and no questions asked."

The man grinned widely, giving a slight giggle. "What is it, some kinda local trouble?"

"Let's just say we'd like to avoid any Imperial entanglements," said Obi-Wan, trying over and over to imagine the child he once knew saying these things.

Han leaned back in his seat. "Well, that's the real trick, i'nt it? And it's gonna cost you somthin' extra."

The Jedi almost wanted to slap Han in the face and tell him that his parents would be ashamed of him.

"Ten thousand, all in advance," the pilot announced, leaving no room for any argument.

"Ten _thousand??_" exclaimed Luke, who had been unusually quiet throughout this entire conversation. Perhaps his subconscious sensed that he had met this person before, a long time ago. "We could almost buy our own ship for that much!"

"But who's gonna _fly_ it, kid? You?" scoffed Han.

"You _bet_ I could!" shouted Luke. "I'm not such a bad pilot."

If the Force weren't telling him that he should wait until a better time to do so, Obi-Wan would have revealed that they were brothers then and there. He wondered how much Han remembered of his old life. Would it make a difference if he were reminded of it now?

He raised his hand to calm Luke down and leaned forward once again. "We can give you two thousand now - plus fifteen when we reach Alderaan."

Han's face perked up for the first time, as if money were the only thing worth getting excited about. "Seventeen, huh?" After turning his mug around in his hands a couple of times, he said, "All right, you guys got yourselves a ship. We'll leave as soon as you're ready - Docking Bay Ninety-Four."

"Ninety-four," Obi-Wan repeat, nodding at the pilot, completely disguising the way his heart was sinking. In merely five minutes, he had seen Anakin and Padme's once-innocent little boy transformed into an alcohol-guzzling, money-worshipping, blaster-carrying patron of the underworld. There seemed to be almost nothing of that child left. After he was taken to the orphanage, did he ever get adopted? It was a question that haunted Obi-Wan's head for years, but it seemed that the answer was obvious now.

_What have I done?_ he thought.


	21. Chapter 21

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks to the reviewers!

Chapter 21

"Well you can forget about your trouble with those Imperial slugs. I told ya I'd outrun 'em."

Obi-Wan's mind could barely acknowledge their pilot's presence, could barely even hear the humming of Luke's lightsaber. His hands were trembling in his lap. He attempted to concentrate on his own breathing, but even the Force couldn't cease the dizziness in his head. Something horrible had happened - he wasn't sure what, but he sensed a terrible tragedy as sharply as if he were actually witnessing it.

And he also sensed that Vader had a part in it.

The holochess game between Chewbacca and the droids couldn't distract him; nor could Han's comments about how Wookiees pulled people's arms off when they lose. What a foolish man he had become. Obi-Wan wanted to tell him what he just sensed, but something told him that the pilot wouldn't show the slightest bit of concern about it.

He turned his attention to Luke, cautiously waving the lightsaber to block the remote, already resembling his father. The father he still idolized, the father he knew almost nothing about. Obi-Wan's heart tingled yet again at the thought of the boy's image being shattered.

"Remember, a Jedi can feel the Force flowing through him," he forced himself to say in an attempt to normalize things.

"You mean it controls your actions?" Luke asked, not taking his eyes off the remote.

"Partially, but it also obeys your command." Yet the Force _wasn't_ obeying his own command to tell him how to best reveal the truth to Luke...and Han.

Though Luke was watching the remote's every move, his reflexes weren't quick enough to block an unexpected shot at his waist. Only a second after the blast struck its mark, Han began laughing uproariously.

"Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side," he scoffed.

Luke deactivated the lightsaber, glaring at the pilot. "You don't believe in the Force, do you?"

Han rolled his eyes. "Look kid, it ain't a matter of believin' or not believin'. It's the fact that the Jedi were complete morons."

"Morons?" Luke's eyes were wide, reminding Obi-Wan of a small child learning a nasty truth.

"Yeah, morons. The whole bunch of 'em were narrow-minded idiots."

Luke's eyebrows lowered. "Ben's not like that. Besides, what do _you_ know about the Jedi??"

Han smirked, pointing a finger at the boy. "Look, I may have been a kid when they were still around, but I have _personal experience _with 'em, and trust me, they were idiots."

"My _father_ was a Jedi!" Luke shouted.

"Then your dad was an idiot," Han declared, rising from his seat and shuffling towards Luke.

"Don't you DARE talk about my father that way!"

"Or you'll what? Chop off my head with that lightsaber of yours?"

"Boys, _please,_" Obi-Wan intervened, trying to ignore the speed of his heartbeat, trying not to wonder whether or not Luke would fly to his father's defense if he knew the truth about him, trying not to scold Han for calling his _own_ father an idiot.

Han blew air out of his mouth. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in the cockpit." With that, he turned sharply and stormed out of the lounge.

Luke's teeth were ground. "Ben, why did you have to pick him? Surely we could have found someone better than..._that_ guy."

Chewie roared loudly in the boy's direction, causing him to jump back slightly while Obi-Wan shook his head.

"I'll go talk to him," the Jedi declared.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Obi-Wan found Han in his pilot's seat, his feet up on the control panel, staring out at the endless streaks of hyperspace.

"For someone who was a child when the Jedi Order existed, you certainly seem to have strong feelings about them," Obi-Wan said lightly.

Han refused to look at the older man. "Yeah? Well what's it to you? Your people are pretty much extinct anyway - and good riddance."

Obi-Wan sat down in the copilot's seat, giving no heed to not having been invited. "You don't recognize me, do you?"

"And why would I?" Han said in an obviously disinterested tone, the sort of tone meant to tell people to go away.

Obi-Wan slyly drummed his fingers on the control panel. "My name wasn't always Ben. After the rise of the Empire, I had to change my name to keep them off my trail."

"And I care about this _why?_"

The older man sighed, shaking his head slightly. This was going to be even more difficult than he anticipated. "You were very, very different the last time I saw you. Smaller, of course, but you also weren't so nasty."

For once Han was silent. He still refused to look at Obi-Wan, but from side he could see the pilot's eyes widening. He sensed confusion from him, confusion and...fear? Fear of what? Fear of the past he'd so desperately tried to bury finding him again?

"And of course, you knew me by a different name," Obi-Wan continued, putting slow emphasis on his every word. "You once called me...Obi."

Han's head turned around so fast that for a moment it look in danger of snapping off. He finally looked Obi-Wan straight in the eye, his own eyes bulged so wide that the elderly Jedi could see redness at the edges of them. His mouth was hanging open, so wrapped up in shock that he lost the ability to speak for a good ten seconds.

"You're..._that_ guy?" he finally sputtered. "The guy who dumped me at that orphanage and never even bothered to check up on me??"

Obi-Wan sighed. "Well, that isn't the first thing I hoped you would mention, but yes...I am."

"Well thanks for nothin'," Han snapped, folding his arms. "If you're expectin' me to throw my arms around you, you've got a long wait in front of ya."

The Jedi sighed again. He had been expecting Han to react like this, but he couldn't stop his heart from mourning the innocent little boy who was gone forever. "Han, I had no choice. It was to protect you from the Empire."

"So what the hell happened to Aunt Sola, then?" Han snapped, a cold glare on his face. "Did she fucking decide she didn't wanna take me in after Mom died?"

Obi-Wan was losing count of how many times Han was making him sigh. "Your mother would be embarrassed to hear you using such language."

"Yeah, well in case you haven't noticed, she ain't here," he growled. "If you think showin' up after not givin' a damn about me for nineteen years is gonna make me feel guilty, you've got another thought comin'."

"For your information, I thought of you every day during my exile," Obi-Wan said, resisting the urge to ruffle Han's hair the way he used to do when he was a child. "Answering your question, it would have been too dangerous to send you to your relatives."

"Yeah, why?"

Obi-Wan quickly thought of an explanation that wasn't exactly untrue, but would prevent him from having to reveal everything right now. "You were the son of a Jedi, and the Empire wanted the Jedi extinct."

"_Adopted_ son, old man," Han corrected. "I ain't got your fuckin' Force thing."

"That doesn't matter," Obi-Wan said firmly. "The Sith would seek you out anyway. They wanted all traces of the Jedi to disappear - it would have been far to easy for them to find you if you had gone to your relatives."

Han snorted. "That's gotta be the lamest excuse I've ever heard - and I've heard some pretty damn lame ones."

Obi-Wan pulled the hairs in his beard. "Your parents would be ashamed of you, young man. If they could see what their little boy has become..."

"_Just...shut...up!!"_ Han said through his teeth, looking like he wanted to punch the older man in the face. His bottom lip was puffed out, making the scar under his mouth prominent.

"By the way, how did you get that scar?" Obi-Wan asked.

For a moment Han appeared taken aback by the rapid change of subject, but he quickly regained his composure. "Well if you must know, I did it to myself."

"What?"

"You heard me - I did it to myself. I was about fourteen and I'd decided I'd had enough of that stupid orphanage. I wanted out - you know, out of life."

Obi-Wan's stomach churned.

"So I stole a knife from the kitchen, a good sharp one. I thought that before I slit my wrists, I'd make my face horribly disfigured so those idiot orphanage people would be terrified when they found my body. Started with the chin, going nice and deep - but then I was caught. Well, you can imagine the ruckus after that." He drummed his fingers on his lap, as if just telling this story made him nervous. "Got put in stupid therapy and the adults never let me outta their sight. And of course, all sharp things were kept well outta my reach."

"Why would you do such a thing?" Obi-Wan said in a hushed voice.

Han gave Obi-Wan a look that seemed to suggest that he had just asked an incredibly stupid question. "You try bein' a hormonal teenage boy without any friends in a shithole of an orphanage who watched his dad kill his mom when he was just five and see if you've got too much will to live after that."

Obi-Wan lowered his head. "I'm sorry, Han. I'm sorry about what I did, I'm sorry about all you've been through."

"Well sorry ain't gonna cut it," Han snapped before sharply turning his head back to the window, again staring out at the void of hyperspace. "Just so you know, if I'd have known it was you, I wouldn't have agreed to your little deal, even with seventeen thousand involved."

Obi-Wan couldn't think of anything to say after that. It was clear to him that Han wasn't ready to know everything about his father or his younger siblings yet.

But when _would_ he be ready?


	22. Chapter 22

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: The usual thanks to all reviewers!

Chapter 22

"Yes R2, I think letting the Wookiee win was a very wise decision," Han heard that protocol droid's voice say as he made his way back to the lounge, trying not to shake. That droid...he looked and sounded so familiar. He stopped in his tracks, listening to the R2 unit give an irritated beep in response.

"What do you mean, lying?" the droid continued as he and the R2 unit hobbled and rolled into Han's sight. "What in the galaxy makes you think our pilot would lie to us?"

"I wasn't lyin'," Han intervened, causing the droids to take notice of him. "Wookiees are very, very sore losers." He pointed a finger at the protocol droid. "You, droid, what's your number?"

"Oh my, how very rude of me not to introduce myself," the droid replied. "I am C-3PO, human-cyborg relations. And this is my counterpart, R2-D2."

Han barely took any notice of the R2 unit beeping a hello to him - he was too busy swallowing. The same number as the droid who babysat him so long ago...at least he _thought_ it was...if he could trust his somewhat fuzzy memories of that time.

"Have ya ever taken care of kids?" he blurted out.

"Why no, sir," the droid responded. "When you're in the service of a military captain you have very little opportunity to see children, yet alone interact with them."

"What about before you served this military guy?" Han persisted.

"I had no other owner before that, sir. Why do you ask? Do you happen to have children?"

Han gave no answer, instead turning sharply away from the droids. He wanted to scream out in frustration as he stormed back to the cockpit. The old Jedi had kept his parents' droids after their deaths and given them to some military captain - he was almost certain of that now. He could hear that voice calling him "Little Master Han" so clearly in his head, but what difference did that make now? He could tell all the stories he wanted to the droid, but it wouldn't do any good.

"Mind-wiped," he muttered to himself. This day just kept getting better and better.

- - - - - - - - - - -

_The Death Star_

Darth Vader gazed at the newly-captured ship, reaching out with the Force to find any life forms aboard. Only a light Force brush was needed to sense the four life forms hiding on the ship. Four. Not an army of invaders - they should be easy to deal with.

"Send a scanning crew aboard," he ordered. "I want every part of this ship checked."

"Yes, my lord," said the officer.

Vader sent his Force senses closer to the ship's inhabitants, scanning their signatures - and nearly jumping when he recognized one of them. How could it possibly be...

"I sense something," he murmured. "A presence I've not felt since..." He couldn't finish his sentence. Mentioning when he'd last sensed his old master would bring back too many memories. So long had he thought - hoped - that Obi-Wan was dead, out of his life forever. The red-tinted view through his mask seemed to blur, replaced by his master scoffing him on Mustafar after cutting off his limbs, foolishly thinking that he had defeated his old student.

But he wasn't defeated. Far from it. The injuries his old master inflicted had transformed him in a quite literal way. Because of that long-ago fight, he was now stronger, tougher, more frightening, capable of leading the entire galaxy. Obi-Wan was foolish if he thought he could take him on now.

He shifted his focus in the Force to the other life forms hiding on that ship. One was a Wookiee, slightly difficult to handle, but manageable. One was a young man, barely an adult...yet there seemed to be something oddly familiar about his Force signature...but he couldn't place exactly what it was. What _was_ it? It nagged at him, yet it remained untraceable. Perhaps the forth life form aboard would offer some clues...

...and the world stopped.

No. It _couldn't_ be. He _couldn't_ be sensing the person he thought he sensed. _That_ person was dead - Palpatine had said so himself all those years ago. But the Force didn't lie. The man's Force signature seemed to vibrate within Vader's armored body. If he could still breathe on his own, he surely would have lost his breath for several seconds.

He was alive...

His son...

_Han._

- - - - - - - - - - -

Vader couldn't focus as he made his way to the meeting room. He wasn't even sure _why_ he was going to the meeting room - it just gave him somewhere to go, something to do, something to distract him from this...situation.

Obi-Wan had taken his child - he should have figured this out a long time ago. He had likely raised the boy to turn against his own father - Vader's artificial hands clenched into fists at the very thought. He imagined his old master's face smirking, having taken everything away from his former padawan.

And Han was alive...

He tried unsuccessfully to block the image coming into his head, the little face with the wide hazel eyes and the big smile. How much did he remember now? Did he remember his father, or had he swallowed Obi-Wan's lies about him?

And what was his son doing _here?_ Was he in league with that princess? That annoying princess - the one who _should_ be terminated...yet for some obscure reason Vader kept finding himself hesitant to do so, kept coming up with reasons to keep her alive a little longer. Was it because he felt an odd familiarity around her as well? Was it because of how much she resembled Padme?

Padme...no...no..._no_...he couldn't think about _that_ right now. _She_ was gone forever, as was their never-born baby - there was no sense in thinking about her...ever. Yet even nineteen years after her death, her irritating memory kept sneaking up on him, no matter how much he tried to push it away.

Vader's heavy booted feet stomped on the floor as he walked. What was he to actually _do_ with this revelation that his son was alive? Perhaps if he was indeed associated with that Rebellion, he could be a valuable asset if they managed to take him prisoner. Perhaps.

But there was something more pressing right now. His old master...who had taken away his life, his glory, his limbs, his wife, his unborn child...and his son. Here, prepared to face him again, out to finish what he had started on Mustafar. Yes..._that_ was what he should be thinking of, not Han. Perhaps it was a good thing that Obi-Wan was alive...that gave Vader the chance to finish him off himself.

Revenge made things so much simpler.

- - - - - - - - - -

"You know, between his howling and your blasting everything in sight, it's a wonder the whole station doesn't know we're here!" Luke shouted as he pulled off his stormtrooper's helmet.

"Well bring 'em on!" Han retorted. "I'd prefer a straight fight to all this sneakin' around." He ground his teeth - the stormtrooper armor was pressing down on his shoulders, making him feel like he was carrying a heavy weight. A call girl massaging his shoulders would feel so good right now, but there weren't any of _those_ to be found here.

He halfheartedly watched the R2 unit find the location of the tractor beam's power source, trying to ignore the fact that Ben...or _Obi_...was looking right at him, seemingly studying him. The old man only took tiny glances at the screen, as if that was all he needed to understand how the tractor beam worked. Was he planning on telling the kid about Han's childhood? His hands clenched into fists at the thought of that.

"I don't think you boys can help me," the old Jedi was saying, a strange hint of sadness in his eyes. "I must go alone."

And _what_ was he doing now? Han's eyebrows went up for a moment before he reflexively strode towards the man who had ruined his life. "So what the hell is this all about?" he said forcefully. "You're gonna just leave us here for those Imps to find?" _Typical,_ he thought. The Jedi was leaving him to his fate _again._

Obi-Wan sighed. "Han, there's a lot happening here that you don't understand."

"Yeah?" Han said in a disbelieving voice. "Well if that's so, it's only cause a certain _someone_ won't explain stuff."

The Jedi sighed once again, shaking his head. "I only wish I had time."

"I wanna go with you," Luke pleaded.

Obi-Wan placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Patience, Luke. Stay and watch over the droids."

"But he can..."

"They must be safely delivered to the Rebellion or other systems will suffer the same fate as Alderann," Obi-Wan said firmly.

"But why can't our pilot guard them?" Luke persisted.

_Our pilot._ As if Han didn't matter enough to be called by his actual name. Why was Han feeling offended by that? It wasn't like the kid's opinion mattered to him...right? Why was he getting this funny feeling that something about the kid _did_ matter?

And the Jedi was looking directly at him again, as if determined to stare him into madness. "The two of you must stay together right now," he said cryptically. "Your destiny lies on a different path than mine." His gaze at Han didn't waver. "You share a path with _Han_ now."

"What??" both Han and Luke exclaimed together.

Obi-Wan completely ignored their reaction, but mercifully ceased staring at Han so he could look at Luke, stroking his shoulder in a fatherly manner. "The Force will be with you, always." With that, he exited the control room, the door sliding shut behind him.


	23. Chapter 23

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks for the reviews as always.

Chapter 23

That old man's mad, Chewie growled after Obi-Wan left.

"You said it, Chewie," agreed Han. _You have no idea how mad he is_, he thought as he turned to face Luke. "So kid, just how did you end up travelin' with that nutcase anyway?"

Luke strode angrily up to Han. "Ben is a great man!"

"Yeah, great at gettin' us into trouble!" Han scoffed, thinking that this boy was almost as annoying as that Obi. Maybe he was Obi's son or something - but then he wouldn't be calling the old man by his fake name.

"Well I didn't hear _you_ make any suggestions!"

"Well anythin's better than just sittin' here waitin' for 'em to pick us up."

Luke bared his teeth. "Who do you think you are??"

Han was about to give another crack about how stupid the Jedi were when the R2 unit started beeping excitedly, taking the attention of both the humans and the Wookiee.

"What is it?" asked Luke.

"I'm not sure," said 3PO, making Han's stomach ache just from hearing that voice. "He says 'I've found her' and keeps saying she's here."

Luke's eyes widened. "Who?"

"Princess Leia."

"The princess??" Luke exclaimed. "She's here??"

"_Princess??_" Han reacted. Yet _another_ thing that old man failed to tell him about. He was beginning to get the feeling that Obi purposely sought Han out with the sole purpose of driving him crazy.

The kid and both the droids ignored him (of course). "I'm afraid she's scheduled to be terminated," 3PO announced.

"Oh _no!"_ Luke wailed, reminding Han of a child whining about not getting his way. "We've gotta do something!"

Han's eyes were wide with disbelief. "What are you talkin' about??"

"The droid belonged to her," Luke said hastily, as if figuring all the out as he was saying it. "She's the one in the message - we gotta help her!"

What message? This was probably still another thing the idiot Jedi had failed to explain. Han was wondering if he should keep a list of all the things that Obi guy didn't tell him. "Now look, don't get any funny ideas," he said. "The old man wants us to wait right here."

"But he didn't know she was here!" Luke persisted. Was that princess his long-lost girlfriend or something? Why did he care so much about what happened to her?

"I'm not goin' anywhere," Han declared, sinking down into a chair and putting his feet up on a control panel.

"They're gonna _execute _her!" Luke pleaded desperately. "Look, a few minutes ago you didn't wanna just wait here to be captured - now all you wanna do is stay??"

Han thumped the control panel. "Marching into the detention area is _not_ what I had in mind!"

"But they're gonna _kill_ her!"

"Better her than me!" Han snapped, turning his head sharply to face away from the boy he was disliking more and more, wishing more and more that he hadn't agreed to this trip. With Alderaan gone he might not even get his promised seventeen thousand now - all he'd have to show for this was his ship getting captured and a few unwelcome trips down memory lane with an idiotic old Jedi.

And there was _still_ his debt to Jabba the Hutt to consider. How was he going to explain himself out of _this_ one?

After a moment or two of silence, Luke leaned on the back of Han's seat, his mouth uncomfortably close to Han's ear. "She's _rich,_" he said in a tantalizing manner.

He's found your weak spot, Han, Chewie teased.

Han found himself unable to argue with his copilot. "Rich?"

Luke nodded eagerly. "Rich, powerful...listen, if you were to rescue her, the reward would be..."

"What?" Han asked, genuinely interested for the first time.

"Well...more than you can imagine!"

"I dunno - I can imagine quite a bit."

"You'll get it," Luke said with complete confidence in his voice.

"I'd better," said Han, pointing a finger at Luke.

"You will," Luke assured.

Han sighed. "All right. You'd better be right about this." The kid _was_ persuasive - Han had to give him that.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Deactivating the tractor beam was easy, but Obi-Wan knew his duty was far from being over. Very, very far from being over. He closed his eyes, focusing on his former apprentice's Force signature, sensing far more anger and hatred than last time. The Sith knew Han was here...Obi-Wan gulped at the thought. Why hadn't he shielded Han's presence from Vader? But then, would his shielding stand against the dark side?

Vader's rage was focused on Obi-Wan, seeing him as the reason for everything. He was getting closer every second, seeking him out. It was as if the Sith were emitting chills from his very body - what little was left of it. Obi-Wan found himself walking down the long, dark corridors, towards the Sith lord, towards a repeat of the battle on Mustafar. If it was a fight Vader wanted, then that was what he would get. Obi-Wan would do whatever he could to protect the Sith's three children.

And there he was, completely encased in black metal, all traces of his former self gone. His hands were gloved, hiding the fact that they were robotic. A box that looked like a breathing mechanism was embedded in his chest. As for his face, there was almost no face to speak of. His mask resembled a skull more than an actual face, with large black circles completely void of emotion covering his eyes and a breathing vent covering his mouth. Obi-Wan gulped. He had heard of how Palpatine made Anakin into a cyborg after the Mustafar battle, but he hadn't actually seen the results. He would be heartbroken for his former padawan if he hadn't lost his soul so long ago.

"I've been waiting for you, _master_," Vader said in a cold, deep voice, striding up to the Jedi, his red lightsaber activated.

Obi-Wan activated his own lightsaber, the weapon he hadn't used in nineteen years. The blade's low humming brought back infinite memories of his old life...and of Anakin's old life. His heart thumped, his eyes watering slightly, feebly wishing that some shred of the old Anakin would appear.

"I know what you've done," Vader continued. "I know my son is here."

Obi-Wan felt a slight relief that Vader had used "son" in the singular, indicating that he didn't know about his _biological_ son. "And you believe your son would go with you?" he replied. "Han doesn't even know you anymore."

Vader waved his lightsaber close to his former master's head. "It was you who took him away from me."

"You drove him away yourself," Obi-Wan said calmly, holding his own lightsaber up. "Just as you drove your wife away."

A millisecond after Obi-Wan spoke, Vader swung his weapon at his old master, who barely managed to block the attack on time.

"Your powers are weak, old man," Vader taunted, thrusting his lightsaber at his old master's knees.

Obi-Wan said nothing; he merely continued blocking the Sith's attacks, sensing his anger growing stronger with every passing second, knowing that Vader's anger would soon reach its logical conclusion and end this fight.

- - - - - - - - -

"Can't get out that way," Han said as he observed the numerous stormtroopers blocking their passage.

"Looks like you've managed to cut off our only escape route," an unfamiliar female voice snapped. The voice was deep and quick, a direct contrast to anything Han would consider feminine and yet it unmistakably belonged to a woman.

Han whirled his head around to face the fabled princess. She was almost a full head shorter than him, yet her height did nothing to lessen the fire in her brown eyes. Her hair was the same color as her eyes, done in two large buns that covered her ears.

"Maybe you'd like it back in your cell, yer _highness_," he hissed at her before quickly turning back to face the stormtroopers so she wouldn't notice him gulping. He found he was having difficulty aiming his blaster at the them...within a few seconds he was just firing randomly and hoping he hit something. It was all he could do when his hands were shaking from that princess's appearance. Her hair, her eyes, her face, it all reminded him of someone he'd long tried to drive out of his head.

She looked like his mother.


	24. Chapter 24

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks as always to my wonderful readers! Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to the wonderful SW author I love dance, whose Han and Luke friendship fics inspired a scene here.

Chapter 24

The sabers clashed, their blinding light blocking Obi-Wan's vision, yet his reflexes kept responding to Vader's attacks. A part of him was far away from this fight, always seeking out Han and Luke, always making sure they were safe. He sensed danger, he sensed narrow escapes, but they always came out alive.

And Vader's daughter was with them.

All three were finally together, but none of them knew they had ever met before, none were aware of their connection. Obi-Wan's lightsaber quivered slightly as he concentrated on shielding his thoughts from his former apprentice. When would they be ready to know the truth? And who would _tell_ them the truth?

"Ben?"

The boy's voice calling out to him drove Obi-Wan to glance to the side. Luke, Han, and Leia were at the Falcon, so close to escaping. All together, like the family they were. None suspected anything, but Obi-Wan could already sense a connection forming between the three of them. Padme's children would stay together after this, whether they ever learned the truth or not. The Jedi gave them a proud smile, as if silently handing over his world to the next generation.

But Vader noticed them as well. His red lightsaber stilled as his body slowly turned, facing all three of his children, but his attention only focused on one. Han was shooting at stormtroopers, taking no notice of Vader staring at him, completely unaware of what he meant to the Sith.

"My son..." Vader murmured in his low voice.

Obi-Wan gasped, knowing what his former apprentice intended, knowing it was critical for the three to escape. It was already too late to save Alderaan, but countless other systems depended on their mission.

And there was only one way for them to escape.

The Jedi quickly brushed his lightsaber against Vader's, reminding him of the battle. In another second, he closed his eyes and pointed his weapon upward, signaling a surrender, fully aware of what would come next. An odd sort of peace filled his soul as he heard Vader's saber charging at him, a true sensation of being _ready._ Right before his spirit faded away into the Force, his final thought was with Anakin and Padme's children.

He wasn't leaving them alone. They had each other now.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The blaster shook in Han's hands. Once again he lost the ability to aim properly as his stomach ached at the sight of the old Jedi vanishing at Darth Vader's hand. He blinked repeatedly, thinking for certain that he must be seeing things, that Obi had actually escaped and it only _seemed_ like he vanished...but Luke's devastated cry of "NO!" told him otherwise.

_Damn, Obi,_ he thought, _you could've beaten him. What the hell did you do that for?_ Yet the answer why insisted on creeping into him. The old man had sacrificed himself so they could get away.

_Damn, damn, damn._ That seemed like the best word to express how he felt. He certainly wasn't _grieving_ the man. It wasn't as if he actually _liked_ him. Yes, his five-year-old self might have liked Obi, but that was only because he didn't know any better. He was a stupid, naive little kid back then.

So why was he trembling at the man's death?

_Damn, damn, damn._

"Luke come on!" Leia shouted. "Come on!"

Poor Luke was obviously shaken, but he still managed to shoot the door controls, shutting Vader in the corridor and away from them. The group raced up the Falcon's ramp, dodging the stormtoopers' fire, yet there seemed to be a cloud in Han's mind as he ran towards the cockpit, as if he were in a surreal dream in the moment right before waking up. It didn't feel _right_ to be leaving without Obi...but there wasn't even a body they could bury.

_Damn, damn, damn._

His hands continued trembling as the Falcon took off without him being aware of actually working the controls, memories of his childhood flashing in his head. His father's best friend...the man who held him when his mother died...he was dead.

The last link to his old life was dead.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

That night Han dreamed of his parents. Not of his parents actually doing anything, but just of his parents. He saw their kind eyes...felt his father's rough robe...heard his mother's soothing voice...smelled her fragrant hair...and yet there was an undeniable sensation that this wasn't real. He couldn't tell if he was a child again or still an adult...but there was a looming knowledge that they would vanish soon. He clung to their clothes as if that would keep them here...yet he knew that would do nothing.

He was dreaming...

Han woke up to blackness, wondering for a few glorious seconds if his parents _were_ still alive before his dream completely faded away and brought him back into reality, reminding him of the day's various events. He sighed as he rolled over in his bunk, sliding his arm under the pillow, wishing that image of the old Jedi dying would get out of his head.

Obi came back into his life only to literally disappear again, only to abandon Han for the second time. Maybe this was his plan all along, and he just wanted to resolve things with Han before he died.

Not that things were actually resolved. They were probably further from being resolved than they were before that Obi showed up.

Han's thighs squirmed, making him realize that he had to use the refresher. _Thank the Corellean gods._ At least going back to sleep and possibly back to dreams could be delayed for a little bit.

- - - - - - - - - - -

As Han made his way back to his cabin, he thought he caught the sound of someone crying. For a moment he dismissed it as him hearing things, but the sound persisted, coming from behind the closed door of Luke's cabin. Han groaned, thinking that the kid was almost definitely crying about Obi. His first impulse was to rush back to his own cabin as fast as he could, but something stopped him from actually doing so. He stood still for around a minute before that same something possessed him to open the door.

Luke was sitting up in bed, his hair disheveled, his face buried in his hands, sobbing loudly. He appeared not to have noticed Han entering. The pilot felt his stomach twist in discomfort, almost wishing that he had obeyed his first instinct and left, but that same thing as before still had a hold on him.

"Kid?" he whispered, barely able to hear himself. "Kid?" When the boy gave no response, he blurted out, "Luke?"

His head turned upward at his real name, revealing a red, tear-stained face to Han. "You okay?" the smuggler continued.

Luke sniffed loudly, only retaining enough strength to shake his head.

Han sighed. "Is it Ben?"

Luke sniffed again, his voice shaky. "N-not just Ben..."

"What do you mean?"

Luke's fingers feebly brushed over his eyes. "My aunt...my uncle...they're gone...and I...I did _nothing..." _He dissolved into sobs once again.

"Whoa whoa, hey!" Han exclaimed, sitting down on the foot of Luke's bunk without invitation. "Calm down...okay?...Just calm down..." He pulled his pajama sleeve over his hand and used it to wipe the boy's cheeks. "C'mon, just take some deep breaths." He patted Luke's shoulder with his other hand. "Breathe in, breathe out...yeah, that's the way. Breathe in, breathe out."

Luke did as he was told, slowly, incrementally softening his cries, though tears continued to flow. After the younger man gave a large, audible swallow, Han thought it might be safe to speak again.

"There? Better?" he asked gently. "Think you can tell me more now?"

Luke gave a gradual nod as he swallowed again. "M-my uncle Owen...my aunt Beru...the only family I ever knew...stormtroopers killed them..." Another sob escaped his lips before he could continue. "A-and...I just left them there...I left my home planet forever without even _thinking_ of burying them or _anything..._" His sobs overtook him again.

Han gulped, trying desperately to find something to say. His head was filling up with unpleasant memories - memories he'd shared with almost no one. So why was he feeling the urge to share them with this kid he only met yesterday? He could think of no logical reason, and yet it seemed like the best thing he could do...the _only_ thing he could do.

"I lost my family too," he mumbled.

Luke's cries ceased long enough to stare at Han. "You did?"

Han nodded slowly. "Yeah, I did. And I was a hell of a lot younger than you, too. I mean, I'm not sayin' it's easy, but at least you had your aunt and uncle till you were grown up."

"How old were you?"

Han sighed. "Five. My mom and dad both died, then that Obi guy shipped me to an orphanage."

Luke's eyes widened, revealing redness at their edges. "You...you know his real name?"

_Damn,_ Han thought when he realized he said too much. "Yeah..." he said with another sigh, "...he was a friend of my parents - back before he went into exile and all."

"Why...why didn't you tell me you knew Obi-Wan?"

"Obi-_Wan?_" Han exclaimed in a rather loud voice for that time of night.

Luke jumped back slightly. "What?"

Han took a deep breath. "Nothin'...I just called him only 'Obi' when I was a kid. Guess he thought his full name was too hard for me to pronounce." _But I ain't five anymore, old man,_ he thought. _Am I ever gonna know just how many secrets you kept from me?_

Luke inhaled through his stuffed nose. "Han...I'm sorry...I'm _very_ sorry."

"It was a long time ago, kid," said Han. "_I'm_ the one who should be sayin' that to _you._"

Luke shifted his weight, creaking the mattress. "I thought you were only in this for the money..."

Han suddenly took an interest in staring at his knees. "Yeah, I am...but remember what that Obi..._Wan_ said? That we shared a path now?"

"Whatever _that_ means," mumbled Luke.

"I dunno what it means either, kid, but well...I've taken care of you, haven't I?"

Luke swallowed yet again. "Yeah...you have." His lips very nearly smiled at the pilot. "At the cantina I thought you were just a big jerk...but you're really not that bad."

Han awkwardly smiled back. "You're not so bad yourself, kid." He ran his hand down Luke's shoulder. "Think you can sleep now?"

The boy nodded, now unmistakably smiling. "Yeah, I think so." He stared into Han's eyes. "Thank you."

Han's smile grew more natural as he rose from the bed. "You let me know if you need me, kid."

"I will."

Han walked back to his cabin in a sort of daze, somewhat wondering what possessed him to disclose his early life to the kid, but quickly assuring himself that Luke wouldn't tell anyone else. Poor Luke. He seemed so...decent...someone like that shouldn't be suffering so much in so short a time. But then again, neither should a five-year-old child.

As he climbed back into his bunk, Han had a very distinct feeling that whatever Obi-Wan roped him into was far from being over. That notion might have worried him if he wasn't so tired. Almost immediately after settling himself in, he fell into a sound, dreamless sleep.


	25. Chapter 25

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks to the reviewers again!

Chapter 25

Vader's artificial hands were clenched into fists as he gazed out the window. The ship was gone - with Han on it, and nothing but a homing device to tell them where he was. The princess was gone too, but Vader felt a strange sort of relief from that. It saved him the trouble of dealing with her anymore. Yes, she escaped, but her usefulness here was expended. In fact, her escaping might very well be quite beneficial - if she wouldn't tell them where the Rebel Base was, she would _lead_ them there instead.

And Obi-Wan was finally dead, yet there was something distinctly unsatisfactory about it. Maybe it was because he surrendered himself to Vader's blade - he hadn't actually been bested. Or maybe it was that he didn't seem to suffer at all - nothing even close to the suffering he'd caused Vader. No...death was far too easy for him, a mere second of triumph followed by an eternity of nothing.

Grand Moff Tarkin strode up to Vader, bringing his mood down even more. "You're certain the homing device is secure aboard their ship?" he asked in his crisp, serious voice, the voice that always made Vader want to Force choke him.

"The Rebels will not elude us for long," Vader assured, though it wasn't the Rebellion as a whole that concerned him at the moment.

"I'm taking an awful risk here, Lord Vader," said Tarkin. "This had better work."

Vader knew better than to tell Tarkin who was on that ship. It wouldn't matter to him anyway. The Sith would have to deal with his son on his own, even though he still had no idea what to actually do with him.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

_Yavin 4_

Han was bored. Really, really bored. Why did that princess insist that he attend this meeting before getting his reward? It wasn't like he wanted to join this crazy Rebellion. What he wanted was to get his reward and pay off Jabba as soon as possible, but that loudmouth princess wouldn't hear any of that. It was come to the meeting or forfeit the reward.

There she was at the head of the meeting room, straight, dignified, determined. Even though she and everyone else would likely die in this insane attack. He might be feeling sorry for her if she weren't so nasty. Yet he kept staring at her as the general rambled on about the technical ins and outs of that space station, that _Death Star_, as the Empire called it. She _was_ beautiful, she _was _spirited, she _was_ courageous, but Han couldn't think too much about that when she was giving herself to death.

He looked down at Luke, seated among the pilots, looking like he couldn't wait to blow up that battle station that could destroy planets. The poor kid. The poor, poor kid. The poor, naive kid who was going to be rudely awakened out of his optimism if Han didn't talk him out of this, which was exactly what he intended to do as soon as this meeting was over. Leia wouldn't listen to him in a hundred years, but Luke just might.

The kid had seen too much death already.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"So, you got your reward and now you're just leaving?"

Han looked up from his packing to see Luke, dressed in an orange fighter pilot's uniform, a helmet tucked under his arm. He looked far too young to be wearing that thing, like a child playing dress-up, not someone prepared to die in battle.

"Yeah, that's right," Han replied. "I got some old debts to pay off with this stuff - and even if I didn't you don't think I'd be fool enough to stick around here, do ya?" He stared Luke in the eye. "Why don't you come with us? You're pretty good in a fight - we could use you."

Luke's eyes were wide with disappointment. "Come _on._ You've seen what these people are up against. They could use a good pilot like you - you're turning your back on them!"

Han twisted his mouth. "Listen kid, I'm offerin' to let you come with us. That old man sacrificed himself to save us - are you tellin' me you wanna throw his sacrifice away??"

"So you think this is a hopeless cause?" Luke shouted.

"Damn right," replied Han. "And you would too if you had any sense in you."

"Obi-Wan didn't just sacrifice himself for _us,_" Luke protested. "He sacrificed himself for the _Rebellion._ They've already destroyed Alderaan - who knows how many more millions of people could die if we don't stop them??"

Han sighed. "All the more reason to get outta here while we still can." He hid his disappointment in the idea that the Jedi didn't care for _them_, but only for their ability to get the plans to the Rebellion.

Chewie glared at him. Why don't you listen to him, cub? he growled angrily.

"Obi-Wan said we shared a path," Luke continued. "Does that mean _nothing_ to you??"

"I told ya you could come with us!" Han retorted. "We'll be sharin' a path then."

"So you're gonna run away? Like a coward? Last night I almost thought you were better than that." Luke was breathing heavily, like an animal. "What do you think your..._parents_ would think of you??"

It was as if the kid had punched Han in the stomach - all the air was knocked out of him, making him forget how to breathe for a few long seconds. He stared ahead at nothing, mute until he recovered his breath, then his voice came back in a furious tone.

"Look," he yelled, pointing a finger at Luke, "just cause I shared something with you last night, you think you got the right to use it against me? You think by makin' me feel guilty you're gonna convince me to stay?"

Luke swallowed, meekly looking down, once more reminding Han of a child. "Fine," he said in a small voice, looking almost on the verge of crying. "Well, take care of yourself, Han." He looked up, the sadness in his face quickly overcome by anger. "I guess that's what you're best at, isn't it?"

Han swallowed. "Look...Luke...don't take it like that..."

Nice job, Han, Chewie growled. He thought you were his friend, then you go and do this to him.

"Chewie..." Han began.

Well what _would_ your parents think of you? Chewie interrupted, a hand on his hip. I may not have ever met your mother, but I know she wouldn't just run away when people she cared about were in danger.

Han gulped, his mother's angelic face appearing in his mind, as fresh as if her death were yesterday instead of nineteen years ago. She was speaking to him, telling him that his copilot was right.

"What's he saying?" asked Luke, a slightly apprehensive look on his face. Apparently the kid still hadn't gotten used to being around a Wookiee.

Han sighed. "Pretty much the same stuff you've been sayin'."

"And?"

Han sighed again, looking into the boy's wide eyes. They were full of desperation, as if he had decided that with his aunt and uncle and old Jedi mentor gone, Han was now supposed to be responsible for him. It was a role he neither wanted nor agreed to, the sort of role he would always try to _avoid._

And there was the princess, straight and dignified as always, once more reminding Han of his mother. Her short stature did absolutely nothing to undermine her authority as she diligently checked on the pilots, making Han distinctly uncomfortable.

"What's going on?" she asked when she reached the small group.

"Han's leaving," Luke said simply.

Leia shifted her piercing glare at the smuggler. "Is this true?"

Han gulped, wanting more than anything to answer in the affirmative, wishing he knew how to drive his mother's face out of his head, wishing he could brush away the guilt Luke and Chewie had instilled.

"No," he mumbled, glancing downward, unable to believe he was actually saying this, "it's not true." He looked back up, his eyes shifting back and forth between Leia and Luke. "I'm stayin'."


	26. Chapter 26

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Hey, I'm back! Thanks to all who reviewed while I was gone. Sorry it took so long to update - I participated in National Novel Writing Month and temporarily put fanfic on hold, but now I'm back.

Chapter 26

Though Leia gave some loud protests, Han insisted on using the Falcon for the attack. Despite all the talk about how only a small one-man fighter could get into that trench, Han wasn't comfortable fighting in one of those tiny X-Wings. Besides, he argued, the Falcon had far more firepower than an X-Wing. It could take out plenty of attackers while someone _else_ destroyed the Death Star.

Han wasn't eager to get too close to that battle station anyway.

"Red Sixteen, standing by," he said into his headpiece, still not believing that he was actually _doing_ this.

"Red Five, standing by," Luke's scratchy voice replied in his ear.

Chewie roared a hello to Luke through his own headpiece, even though Luke wouldn't be able to understand it. The Wookiee looked fully-prepared for battle, completely embracing the idea of flying straight into death's mouth for the sake of an ideal. Han didn't know whether to admire him or roll his eyes at him.

There it was. The gigantic gray sphere they were supposed to destroy. Han heard one of the pilots exclaiming, "Look at the size of that thing!" which seemed like vast understatement. This _was_ insane. He tried to ignore his heart's speedy beating, tried not to think of how he may be in the last moments of his life.

_Well Mom, you'd better appreciate this,_ he thought. _I might be seeing you soon._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

They were attacking the station. The Rebels were more foolish than Vader thought. Did they honestly think they had a chance with their tiny ships and amateur fighters? It would be amusing if Vader didn't sense a distinctive Force signature among the attackers.

Han. Attacking them. Attacking _him. _Attacking his own father. The young man's mind was still twisted from Obi-Wan's influence. Vader's booted feet angrily scraped the floor at the thought. The old Jedi was dead, but his damage lived on.

_Han, come back to me,_ he thought, cursing the fact that his son wasn't Force-sensitive and thus couldn't hear his message. The adult Han was haunting his mind. He now wore filthy clothes, his hair was a mess, he carried a blaster by his side, how could his little boy have grown into such a person?

But then again, his hair wasn't very neat when he was a child either. Vader remembered always struggling to pull tangles out of it, which usually resulted in the boy crying. Of course, _that_ was always followed by enough kisses and cuddles to brighten his mood, and by then the tangles were usually forgotten.

He was a pilot now. His childhood dream fulfilled. So why did Vader sense so much unhappiness coming off of him? The Sith Lord shook his head, realizing that he already knew the answer to that. Han was just like his father - he had a dream when he was young only to be miserable when the dream came true.

Several TIE fighters were already launching to counter the attackers, which unexpectedly made Vader shudder. The largest and easiest target by far was the ship Han was flying - and its pilot meant nothing to any of the Imperial soldiers. They would shoot him down without any thought.

"I'm going to help the fighters," he told the nearest stormtroopers. "Cover me." Without waiting for their response, he headed for the flight deck.

- - - - - - - - - -

Luke was in the trench.

Han didn't completely understand everything the general said during that meeting, but he at least knew that the trench was long, narrow, and dangerous, with a target only two meters wide. Even if the kid _did_ manage to hit his mark, would he be able to get out in time? Han tried not to think about that as he carefully flew the Falcon above the trench, ready to protect Luke from any adversaries.

Not that he knew exactly _how_ he would protect him.

"Luke," he heard one of the other pilots say, "you've switched off your targeting computer. Are you all right?"

"What??" Han exclaimed.

"I'm fine," Luke replied calmly.

Han pressed his mouthpiece as close to his lips as it could get without going in his mouth. "What the hell do you think you're doin', kid??"

"Trust me, Han." Luke sounded as airy and overconfident as Obi-Wan had. "I know what I'm doing."

Han thumped on the control panel in frustration. He had vague memories of his father using that same tone...particularly when he said in complete confidence that his mother wasn't going to die, that he was going to save her and Han from a horrible fate

That was why he _hated_ the Force.

"Kid, have you lost your mind?" he persisted.

"No..." Luke said dreamily. "...I've _found_ it."

"What the hell are you talkin' about??" Han shouted, though he already figured that Luke wouldn't listen to him no matter what he said.

"Trust me, Han," Luke repeated. "Don't worry about me."

Han muttered a swear word that he hoped wouldn't be picked up by his mouthpiece.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Vader flew his TIE fighter directly below Han's ship, where the pilot couldn't see him. This put him in a good position to pursue the leading X-Wing heading for the thermal exhaust port. A blast at the exhaust port _could_ be hazardous to the station, but Vader sensed that the X-Wing's pilot was inexperienced with both flying and fighting.

The boy who was with his son earlier...

There was still that familiar air in his Force signature, but once again Vader couldn't place it. Moreover, closer inspection of the boy's Force signature revealed something _very_ interesting.

He was Force-sensitive.

Vader suddenly felt a slight apprehension. Even inexperienced, a Force-sensitive fighter _might_ have a better chance of hitting his mark. Perhaps he could even...no, no, that was ridiculous. Force-sensitive or not, he was still a boy, not a serious threat.

The Sith Lord fired at the boy's ship, but he skillfully maneuvered his ship out of the way - the blast only hit the R2 unit sticking out of the back, which gave Vader an odd sense of satisfaction. He remembered all too well that he once had an R2 droid much like that one - but just like everything else in his old life, that droid vanished. It felt good to destroy something that reminded him of everything lost.

Suddenly, a blast hit the TIE fighter next to him, destroying it, slightly startling Vader. In his musings he'd forgotten to pay attention to the fight. He looked up to see that Han had fired that shot, sensing triumph and exhilaration coming from his son. His artificial hands gripped the controls tighter, firing rapidly at the boy in order to resist the urge to fire at Han.

But Han fired again, this time striking the TIE fighter on Vader's other side. That fighter spun out of control, ramming into Vader's fighter before crashing into the wall of the trench, which in turn sent Vader's own fighter spinning out of control. The Sith Lord fumbled with the controls, but all he managed to accomplish was steering up out of the trench, still spinning and tumbling with what felt like endless momentum.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

"You're all clear, kid. Now let's blow this thing and go home."

Han beamed as Luke fired the critical shot, hitting his target. The grin on his face felt like it couldn't be eliminated even if it stretched his muscles to the point of tearing. The sight of Luke's X-Wing pulling up out of danger just before the station exploded in a blinding blast seemed like the most beautiful thing Han had ever seen.

"Great shot, kid!" he exclaimed into his mouthpiece. "That was one in a million!"

He heard Luke give a long, loud sigh of relief. "Thanks for covering my back, Han. I couldn't have done it without you."


	27. Chapter 27

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: As always, much appreciation to all the readers and reviewers. Special thanks especially to the reviewer Deja I Know I've Been Looking For Vu, who wondered if maybe Han's presence in the entire battle might have prevented Biggs from dying. I actually hadn't thought at all about Biggs's fate being different, but I thought it was a good idea, so I decided to use it.

Chapter 27

Vader's TIE fighter landed on Yavin 4, a good distance away from the Rebel Base. He stumbled out of the fighter still disoriented, still dizzy, barely able to stand. His breather suit had been knocked and dented around, but at least the mechanics didn't seem to be damaged.

He stood for a few long moments, gazing out at the trees through the red lenses of his mask, listening to his own mechanized breathing. The Death Star was gone, thousands of their troops were dead . . . the Emperor would _not_ be happy to hear about that. He would be even less happy if he found out that Vader had allowed emotion to distract him from the battle and perhaps even allowed the Rebels their victory because of his distraction.

But then, how was he even going to _get_ back to Coruscant now? The TIE fighter certainly didn't have hyperspace capabilities, and Yavin 4 seemed to be completely uninhabited.

Well, _almost_ completely uninhabited.

There were definitely ships at the Rebel Base – including some with hyperspace capability. If he could make it into the base unseen, he could steal a ship and get back to Coruscant. It seemed so simple . . . so why was he hesitating?

No . . . he knew why he was hesitating. He knew all too well, but it shamed him to think about it. It was Han . . . and only Han. Han who saw him only as an enemy. Han who was completely oblivious to the truth. Han whom Obi-Wan had taken away from him. Obi-Wan . . . once again Obi-Wan was the reason for his misery. It was always Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan's restrictions prevented him from saving his mother. Obi-Wan turned his wife against him. And now Obi-Wan had turned his son against him.

It was infinitely more frustrating now that Obi-Wan was dead. Vader had spent so many years thinking that his old master's death would bring him peace, but the complete opposite turned out to be true. With Obi-Wan dead, there was no more chance for him to suffer for his wrongdoings, no more opportunity for him to regret all he had done. It was as irritating as shouting at empty air.

Han's Force signature was pulsing in his senses, giving him a clear picture of which way the Rebel Base was. He could make it there on foot . . . even after the ordeal he had just been through, but the hesitance was still hovering over him, as if it were an actual physical being holding him in place.

Vader growled through his breathing vent, clenching his hands. This was getting him nowhere. Was he _really _so afraid of facing his son who didn't even know about him? He wouldn't even have to face him if he just slipped into the Rebel Base long enough to steal a ship. And if anyone tried to stop him . . . well, he could easily take care of them.

He turned and began heading in the direction of his son's Force signature.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

The Rebel Base was bustling with excitement. Glasses clinked, music played, and laughter was abundant. There had, of course, been a eulogy and moment of silence for the pilots who gave their lives in the battle, but now celebration was in order, and a large celebration at that.

Han couldn't recall the last time he'd been in such a huge crowd without having to turn around every few seconds to make sure no one was attacking him. It felt slightly invasive, as if everyone was trying to lure him into a false sense of security before turning him over to Jabba. If Chewie weren't standing a few feet away from him, he might instinctively start running. He still wasn't sure he could trust everyone in the Rebellion _not_ to turn him over to Jabba, but if one of them was looking for easy money, he or she would have to get through hundreds of other Rebels who would feel that they owed their skins to him.

Okay, maybe not _hundreds_ of Rebels, but _still_ . . .

"Hey, you're Han Solo, right?"

Han raised his eyebrows at the dark-haired man with the thick mustache who had just addressed hum. "Uh . . . yeah, who are you?"

The man gave a large smile as he offered his hand. "Biggs. Biggs Darklighter. I'm an old pal of Luke's."

Han hesitantly shook his hand. "Nice to meet you."

"You probably don't know it," Biggs continued, "but you saved my life."

Han's eyes bulged. "What?"

Biggs nodded. "You blasted a fighter that was about to blast me."

"I did?"

"Yup." Biggs raised his glass as if expecting Han to toast with him. "Luke said you were almost gonna take your reward and flee, but I'm sure glad you didn't."

"Uh . . . thanks."

Chewie patted Han on the shoulder. [See, cub?] he growled approvingly.

Han downed the remainder of his beer, making him flinch momentarily at the drink's strength and chill. It was a bit overwhelming to be so admired by a stranger.

Luke came running up to the group, still wearing that fighter suit, as if he had decided that it now represented who he was. "Han! Han! Guess what?" His grin grew wider when he noticed Biggs. "So I see you've met Biggs?"

"Yup," said Han. "Apparently I saved his life."

"He did," said Biggs, now waving his glass at Luke.

Luke gave an extra wide smile to Han. "Well . . . I guess I've got to thank you for _that _too."

Biggs playfully slapped his childhood friend on the back. "You pick your friends well, Luke."

"All right, all right," Han interrupted, making sure they wouldn't forget he was in the conversation. "So kid, what did you wanna tell me?"

"Why don't you just let me tell him myself?" said that female voice that seemed skilled at sensing Han's presence and seeking him out to insult him. All heads turned to see Leia striding toward him, a glass of what was probably some fancy wine in her hand.

"Hey Your Highness," he said in his best smart-aleck voice. "That was some battle, wasn't it? Bet you're glad I chose to stick around, aren't ya?"

Leia sighed, facing both Han and Luke. "The Rebel Alliance is grateful to you both. The other Rebel commanders and I agree that you are owed something special to show that. That's why you will both be receiving medals of honor tomorrow morning."

Han's hand lost its grip on his glass – it dropped to the floor and shattered. "What??"

Leia glanced down at the broken glass, as if trying to decide whether or not it was worth stripping Han of the not-yet-received medal for. "Yes," she said, finally looking back up at him, "tomorrow there will be a ceremony to commemorate the occasion and pay tribute to its heroes." She shifted her focus back to Luke. "Particularly the one who destroyed the Death Star . . ." She turned back to face Han. ". . . and the one who directly assisted in the destruction."

"And he saved my life," inserted Biggs. "Don't forget that."

Leia grinned at him. "I have a feeling you won't let us."

Biggs burst out laughing, once again slapping Luke on the back. "Congrats, old buddy."

Chewie was laughing in a similar matter, rubbing Han's shoulder. [Congratulations, cub. You certainly deserve it.]

Han discreetly pinched his leg through his pants to make sure he wasn't dreaming. "Hey, wait a sec."

"What?" asked Leia.

Han pointed behind him with his thumb. "Chewie should get one too. He was flyin' the ship with me – hell, _he_ might've been the one who actually saved that guy's life, I wasn't keepin' track of which one of us was firing which shots."

[I don't need a medal, cub,] Chewie growled. [You were the one who blasted the ones after Luke.]

"No pal, you need one," Han insisted, turning back to face the princess. "Well Your Highness, what do you say?"

Leia smiled up at the Wookiee for what might have been the first time. "All right Chewie, you'll be getting a medal as well."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The guards had been easy for Vader to overpower. Mind tricks and Force choking were enough to keep them from sounding the alarm. Most of the Rebels were inside celebrating anyway, the fools. This may be a small victory for them, but the war wasn't over yet.

The Sith crept among the ships in the flight deck, trying to decide which was the best one to take, but then he heard footsteps. Two people were entering the flight deck. He would have swiftly taken care of them with a Force choke . . . but one of them was Han. Han and the boy who destroyed the Death Star. Suddenly all his courage faded away and he quickly ducked behind one of the ships.

Han and the boy were both holding glasses of beer and they both appeared to be slightly tipsy. Vader wondered if they had wandered onto the flight deck without knowing where they were going.

"Medals of honor, kid," Han said in a rather loud voice, clinking his glass against Luke's and giggling. "Medals of honor."

Vader wished he still had the ability to hold his breath, hoping they weren't sober enough to listen for unusual sounds.

"Yeah," replied the boy, grinning widely, his smile reminding Vader of Padme's. "Too bad we've gotta leave after the ceremony."

"Any idea where we're goin'?"

"Not a _clue_," the boy shouted. "The commanders won't tell anyone until we're there. Oh well, we have a _surprise_ then."

They both burst into drunken giggles, neither one noticing Vader's hands clenching. The Rebels were leaving; their location would once again be unknown to the Imperials. Yet another thing the Emperor would _not_ be happy about. The Sith considered stowing onboard one of the ships as they left, but quickly decided against it due to the fact that his breathing would make hiding difficult, and he couldn't count on the pilot of _that_ ship to be drunk.

Steal a ship here, return to Coruscant, that was the best strategy, even though being so close to his son was getting more painful by the second. He wondered when Han took up drinking alcohol. It certainly wasn't something his _parents_ would teach him. Did Obi-Wan perhaps introduce Han to alcohol just to spite Vader?

"Say Luke," Han said once he finally ceased his laughter, "I don't think you've ever told me your last name."

Luke. The boy's name was Luke. A Tatooine name, a good name.

"Oh, how _dumb_ of me," the boy said between small snickers. "It's Skywalker."

_Skywalker??_

"Skywalker?" Han repeated, frowning slightly, seeming to sober up a tiny bit. "Hmm . . ."

"Yeah," said Luke. "Something wrong with that?"

Han's mouth twisted from side to side several times before he answered. "Oh . . . nothin', it just sounded a bit familiar, that's all, but I can't really place it."

_It was your father's name, you idiot! _Vader thought, part of him wanting to choke him then and there. How could Han have forgotten his own father's name? What _else_ had he forgotten? Had Obi-Wan somehow wiped away all memory of his previous life?

He stared at Luke from his hiding place, hoping the boy wouldn't see him. Could he possibly be . . . no . . . he couldn't . . . no . . . the name had to be a coincidence . . . Padme's unborn baby died with her . . . right?

"_Anyway, Luke Skywalker has a nice ring, doesn't it?"_

Vader felt like what little was left of his actual body was crumbling away. The boy had Padme's smile, had the name that was going to be given to their baby if it was a boy, had the _Force_, even. Was it possible? Did he dare to think that _both_ his children were alive?

He closed his eyes behind his mask, willing the two men to go away, counting the seconds until he could get off this wretched moon. He couldn't think of this anymore, couldn't drive himself to insanity before he returned to Coruscant and found out the truth from his master.


	28. Chapter 28

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks as always to the reviewers!

Chapter 28

Han woke up the next morning with an irritating headache. Without opening his eyes, he rubbed his forehead in a vain attempt to ease the pain. Maybe he shouldn't have had those last few drinks . . . but he couldn't do anything about that _now._ He'd been through this routine enough times to know that the best cure for a hangover was to sleep all day.

[Rise and shine, Han! It's time to get our medals!]

The Wookiee's voice reminded Han that he couldn't sleep all day today, which in turn reminded him of everything that happened yesterday. He moaned and rolled over, Biggs's enthusiastic voice pounding in his head along with the ache. So he saved the guy's life . . . now what? He couldn't recall ever having saved someone's life other than his own . . . and possibly Chewie's somewhere along the way. But never a stranger. Never someone whom he previously didn't know existed. Somehow it was unsettling. If he had left like he was planning, that man would be dead – but then again, if he had left he wouldn't even _know_ about that man's death. He'd never know _anything_ about what he could have altered.

Chewie's hand was now grabbing his shoulder. [Come on Han, get up.]

Han gave a long, deep yawn. "The medals can wait five minutes, can't they?" he mumbled sleepily.

[Sure they can,] growled Chewie, [if you want the _princess _to come wake you up.]

_That_ idea was enough to motivate Han to get up. With his eyes still closed, he forced himself into a sitting position, though it made him dizzy to do so. He clutched his head as Chewie massaged the back of his neck, imagining Luke's smiling face when they received their medals. Just _what_ was it about that kid? He'd managed to convince Han to both help rescue Leia and stick around for the attack using nothing but an innocent demeanor and a naive optimism.

And now he was waking up in a room the Rebel Alliance had given him instead of his bunk on the Falcon – mainly because of that kid. That kid . . . and that princess. That princess who kept yelling at him. That princess who thought she was so superior to him. That princess who was brave, dedicated, determined . . . everything he wasn't. So why did she keep insisting on entering his mind? Was it just because she resembled his mother? Han shook his head, keeping his eyes closed . . . it wasn't as if she looked _exactly_ like his mother . . . just enough to remind him of her.

Chewie started shaking his shoulder once more. [Cub, are you asleep again?]

Han forced his sticky eyelids to peel apart. "No Chewie, I was just thinkin' about some things."

[Well stop thinking and start getting dressed,] growled Chewie, mussing the pilot's already-unkempt hair.

Han grunted as he forced himself out of bed, but he didn't stop thinking. Luke's last name . . . what was it again? . . . Skywalker? Last night he thought it sounded familiar . . . probably because he was drunk . . . but if that was so, why was it still nagging him _now?_ Skywalker . . . _Skywalker . . ._ it felt like an old forgotten memory trying to make its way back into his conscious mind.

He sighed loudly, trying to clear his brain. Would the Rebel leaders think he wanted to be part of the Rebellion now? Well, the Rebellion would certainly make a nice shied from Jabba . . . he wasn't exactly sure if the Hutt would accept the reward money, which was slightly less than the amount owed. Whatever, after the medal ceremony he would be traveling with them to wherever they were going, whether it was a smart decision or not.

_You're losing it, Han_, he thought.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Han felt like he'd left his stomach behind as he strode down the aisle, past what seemed like hundreds of soldiers standing erect, a blaring fanfare playing somewhere, which irritated his ears. If Luke and Chewie weren't walking alongside him, he'd probably make a run for it.

There she was, her hair in a long braid down her back, giving her an additional regal air. It pounded in Han's head that she was a princess, and even the loss of her planet couldn't remove that from her. Under normal circumstances, he probably wasn't even worthy to look at her, yet alone receive a medal from her.

But of course, _these_ circumstances were far from normal.

The three ascended the steps in almost perfect synchronization, all smiling up at the princess. Leia gradually turned her head from side to side, as if teasing them about which one would get their medal first. Chewie growled at her to hurry up, making Han thankful that no one else seemed to understand his language. Otherwise they would probably all be thrown out right then.

Leia finally took one of the medals from the pillow the commander held. She let it dangle from her fingers for a couple of seconds before bringing it up to Chewie, who bowed his head incredibly low in order for her to reach it. Han smiled at the Wookiee as he straightened up. He looked quite dignified with a medal.

And then it was Han's turn. His smile grew wider as the princess approached him with his medal – and she actually gave him a brief smile back. He bowed down, and the instant he felt the medal's ribbon around his neck, he looked back up at her and winked, as if trying to get more of her attention.

Well, maybe he _did_ want more of her attention.

Last of all, she gave Luke his medal. The kid smiled as if he had just won a million credits, staring at Leia a little too intently for Han's comfort. Ah well, he was too young for her anyway – he'd surely realize that soon.

Applause broke out among the crowd as the medal recipients bowed at the princess and then turned around to face the cheering Rebels. The R2 droid beeped and whistled in excitement, making everyone smile in relief that his repair had been a success. Han wasn't sure if his parents' astro droid had been mind-wiped like their protocol droid, but he seemed to have retained the playful spirit Han remembered.

He wished the applause would just linger on and on, that he could bask in it for hours. No one had ever applauded _him_ before, and they likely never would again. Real, sincere applause, he liked it. It filled him with a sort of awe he wasn't used to feeling.

He could almost imagine his parents in that crowd, cheering on about how proud they were of their little boy.


	29. Chapter 29

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks as always to the readers and reviewers!

Chapter 29

_Coruscant_

The ship Vader stole from the Rebels was clumsy, but it at least got him to Coruscant. He landed on one of the many docking platforms outside the Emperor's headquarters, formerly the building that housed the Imperial Senate. His metal legs trembled slightly as he stepped onto the platform. Had the Emperor already heard about the Death Star's destruction? If not, how would Vader ever tell him? But then again, did it really matter? Whether or not Palaptine already knew, no matter what method of revealing the news Vader might try, the Emperor would _not_ take it lightly.

He found his master in his office, seated in one of the many thronelike chairs he had throughout the building, his hood pulled down over his eyes. By instinct, Vader immediately kneeled down, bowing his head in reverence.

"Good day, Lord Vader," Palpatine said in his gruff, eerie voice.

"Good day, my master," Vader greeted back, keeping his head bowed.

Palpatine slowly, elegantly rose from his seat and started inching toward his apprentice. "You may rise."

Vader stood up, but kept his head bowed, unwilling to face his master's glare.

"You come alone," Palpatine said. "Where are your troops?" His tone was surprisingly neutral, as if he were merely humoring his apprentice and it was all good fun.

Vader found himself unable to say anything. He stared down at the floor, unable to see much of anything through the red-tinted lenses of his mask. That was what he wanted. He had no desire to see the Emperor's scowling face right now, especially after he delivered the news. The Force was clouded around him, making it impossible for Vader to tell whether or not he already knew of the Death Star's destruction.

"Your troops," Palpatine repeated. "Where are they, Lord Vader?"

Vader felt thankful for his damaged lungs – otherwise his master would surely hear him holding his breath in dread. "Master," he began, "I regret to inform you that the Rebels attacked the Death Star."

He suddenly looked up, seeing Palpatine hooking his fingers, as if working through a plan. "Oh, did they? Well what happened?"

"They . . . destroyed it, Master." Vader forced the words out, once more grateful that he could no longer breathe on his own, grateful that his breath couldn't betray his feelings with unwelcome heaves or gasps.

Palpatine glared at his apprentice, but he showed no hint of surprise. "Yes . . . I know. And you were the only survivor, am I right?"

"I did what I could, Master."

Palpatine's scarred, wrinkled face scrunched. "Well obviously you didn't do enough."

"I am sorry, my master." Vader bowed again, as if that would remedy their losses.

"The Rebels now believe they can defeat us all," Palpatine said in his low, hissing voice. "This small victory has made them . . . arrogant."

"What do you wish to do about the Death Star's destruction, my master?" Vader's question was cold, detached, dispassionate, concealing the questions he _truly_ wanted to ask. The Death Star was nothing to him – at least nothing when compared to the people who destroyed it, the people he had long thought dead.

"It will not be a concern for long," the Emperor said, something that resembled a smile pushing its way through his heavily deformed cheeks.

"What do you mean?"

Palpatine turned and began hobbling back to his throne. "When building a weapon this powerful, it is to be expected that it will be attacked." He sat down, one hand on each arm, a dignified, royal stance. "So what are you to do about that?"

"Provide a strong defense," Vader said, hoping his voice wasn't betraying his puzzlement.

"Yes," said Palpatine, appearing to be staring into the distance. "But what do you do when that defense is penetrated?"

Vader was silent, unable to find an answer, unable to figure out what his master wanted him to say.

"You start again," the Emperor said simply and plainly. "And fortunately for you, we already _have_ started again. You needn't worry about your own failure _this _time."

His failure. As if it was _his_ fault the Death Star was destroyed. As if Palpatine knew of his impulsive endeavor to protect his son, even though Han was fighting for the enemy. Perhaps it _was_ his fault. If it weren't for that moment of distraction, he would have been able to kill Luke and prevent the destruction.

But the thought made him ill, even though he didn't know for certain that Luke was his son. He suddenly realized that he _couldn't_ have blasted Luke even if Han wasn't around, even if there was nothing to distract him from the task at hand. Something, a twitch in the Force, a second of hesitation, a momentary stilling of his hands, would have stopped him, even if he never knew that the boy was his son.

"While you were supervising the final phases of the Death Star's construction," Palpatine continued, "my other men began construction on another one. A backup, if you will." He grinned wickedly. "When completed, this one will be bigger, stronger, and more powerful than the first."

Vader barely remembered to bow. "How clever, my master."

"Yes," Palpatine murmured, seemingly to himself. He clasped his hands together and leaned forward. "And now, Lord Vader, I sense something is troubling you."

He _did_ know. Vader concentrated on keeping his mechanical limbs from trembling. He sank back down to his knee, awaiting the harsh lecture that was sure to follow. _Why _hadn't he shielded his feelings from the Emperor? Of course, it probably wouldn't work anyway – he was sure Palpatine could penetrate a Force shield if he wanted to.

"Get up," Palpatine ordered, his influence giving Vader no other option but to obey him, though his head remained bowed. Always submissive, always yielding to his master, that was his life.

"Something _is_ troubling you," Palpatine repeated, as cold and casual as if he were reciting a fact from an archive. "There's no sense in keeping it from me."

Vader was silent for several moments before he spoke. "Master . . ." he forced himself to say, "nineteen years ago you told me my son was dead."

"Yes . . ." Palpatine said knowingly, stroking the arm of his throne. "And which son would you be referring to – the one you adopted or the one who was born without your knowledge?"

Vader felt cold, dazed, as if the life were being drained out of him.

"Oh yes, I know," the Emperor continued. "I know that your offspring are serving the enemy. I have no doubt that the young Rebel who destroyed the Death Star is the son of Anakin Skywalker – and the older Rebel who assisted him, why that would be Skywalker's adopted child."

How Vader wished that he could react in a human way. If only he were allowed to tremble, to gasp, to sigh, to do _something._ What little blood that still flowed was racing through his veins, as if the lack of a fully-functioning heart was confusing it. When was the last time he'd heard his previous name, anyway? He probably hadn't heard it since he was put in the suit . . . he'd almost forgotten what it was. _Anakin Skywalker_ . . . the name sounded alien, unreal, like something from a long-ago dream, something that had never actually belonged to him.

"You told me they were dead," he repeated.

"As far as you're concerned, they _are_ dead," the Emperor hissed. "They have been taught to despise you and all associated with you. Should they ever get the chance, they will kill you without a second thought."

His children would kill him. Once more Vader felt that burning anger at Obi-Wan. What _more_ could his old master take from him? He found himself imagining the idiot laughing at him from whatever afterlife he'd ended up in, relishing in the suffering he'd caused his former padawan.

"The Force is with the younger one," Vader said quickly. "If he could be turned, he would make a powerful ally."

"Yeeessss . . ." Palpatine slurred, ". . . should he join us, he could be valuable . . ." He stared at his apprentice. "Can it be done?"

"He will join us or die, Master." Vader bowed once again before staring back at his master as best he could through the wretched lenses in his mask. "And what about the older one?" He avoided saying his sons' names, avoided uttering a confirmation that the life he left behind actually existed. _Han_ . . . the very word was too painful to hear, too painful to even think about, yet always creeping around in his mind, even before he discovered that his son was alive.

Palpatine leaned back in his seat. "He is of no use to us. Should the opportunity arise, you must kill him."


	30. Chapter 30

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 30

AN: Thanks as usual to the readers! Wow, we're in the ESB era. And it only took thirty chapters to get there. ;) Anyway, yes, the characters are drinking hot chocolate in this chapter, sorry if you find it weird. I'd find it weird too, but in the SW comic book "Union," Han and Luke go to a restaurant and Han orders hot chocolate for Luke, which indicates that the stuff exists in the Star Wars universe. If a published SW author can use it, I certainly can. Okay, done rambling.

_Hoth, Three years later_

Han sat at the table that his group had claimed as their own. The Rebellion had fled from planet to planet during the last three years, but every time they set up a new base, Han's group always found a table for themselves. His group consisted of five of the survivors from the Death Star attack – himself, Chewie, Luke, Biggs, and Wedge Antillies, a young, dark haired Corellian with a talent for flying. Han wasn't exactly sure _how_ they had become this little gang – it was as if the shared experience in the Battle of Yavin, as it was called now, had driven them to become brothers around their little table.

At their current base on Hoth, their table was in the mess hall, next to a small brick fireplace. On a planet as insanely cold as this, where Han had actually worn his winter coat to bed a few times, the fireplace was a welcome luxury, the perfect ambiance for a game of sabacc or a round of drinks.

Tonight was extremely cold even for _this_ planet, so the five were each wrapped up in blankets, even Chewie. Instead of the alcoholic beverages they usually used for refreshment, they were sipping hot chocolate for extra warmth. The sweet, warm beverage seemed to fill Han with contentment, as if everything going on away from their table didn't matter.

"I don't know about you guys," Biggs was saying, "but I hope we're forced to leave this place soon."

"Me too," said Wedge, his hands firmly gripping his mug, as if he were afraid of losing it. "Say Luke, you're a commander, aren't you? Why don't you try convincing the other leaders to move somewhere else, somewhere not so cold?"

"Like a _tropical_ planet!" said Biggs. "You know, not as hot as Tatooine, but someplace with a good sun you can relax in."

Luke raised his hand, showing the others his palm. "Come on guys, you know I'm pretty much a 'commander' by name only. I don't have much _real_ authority."

"You could at least _try,_ though," Wedge said with mock annoyance. "Maybe the princess would listen to you. I mean, you're friends and all."

_Why_ did he have to mention Leia? Yes, she was now _Leia_ in Han's mind instead of just "the princess," and every mention of her brought a tingle to his stomach. They were still always fighting – Han suspected it was entertainment to the others – yet he almost enjoyed it. Maybe she did too. She certainly knew exactly how to provoke him . . . although to be fair, he had spent the last three years perfecting how to provoke _her_ as well.

"Maybe we could ask _Han_ to talk to her," Biggs said teasingly, nudging Han with his elbow. "After all, he's got a _thing _going with her."

Han rolled his eyes. "Does it count as a _thing_ when she refuses to admit it?"

The others laughed, unaware of Han's discomfort. Yes, she refused to admit it. She refused to admit that she saw him as anything other than an idiot. She refused to admit that there were times when he was actually useful to the Rebellion. And most frustrating of all, she refused to admit that she wanted him.

Like how he wanted her . . .

He gulped down more of his drink, as if fearful that the others could read his thoughts if he stayed still for too long.

"Well maybe we'll be outta here soon anyway," said Biggs. "After all, the Empire's bound to find us sooner or later."

Wedge nearly spilled his drink in surprise. "What? You're not saying you _want_ the Empire to attack us, are you?"

"Course not," Biggs said quickly. "But you know . . . a little excitement wouldn't hurt."

Excitement. Han had more than enough _excitement_ when a bounty hunter caught up with him on Ord Mandell. The reward money had been spent little by little over the years, leaving Han empty-handed when the bounty hunter came for him. He had barely gotten out with his skin intact.

He swallowed, gazing over at Luke, whose boyish demeanor remained intact even after three years of war. Han didn't know how the kid did it. No matter how many times he proved that he had a maturity beyond his years, no matter how many times he showed his capability, he still appeared far too young to be in battle.

Young.

Leia was young too.

They were both young – and he was dragging them into danger with him.

Han stared down into his drink, observing the swirls of chocolate as if they would magically relieve him of guilt. Didn't his friends risk their lives enough in this war? One bounty hunter meant others could follow – others who might use Leia or Luke or someone else as leverage to get what they wanted. He willingly fought in their war, but that didn't mean he had the right to force them into his.

[Cub, are you all right?] Chewie growled. [You're being awfully quiet.]

Han sighed, trying to ignore the pull in his stomach at the idea of leaving the protection the Rebellion offered, even though he had been using them as a shield for far too long already. "Yeah Chewie, I'm fine." He stood up abruptly, letting his blanket fall to the floor. "I'm tired, I think I'll go to bed."

"Already?" said Biggs.

"Yeah," Han mumbled, turning around and walking away, unable to look his friends in the eye.

"Well, good night buddy," Luke called.

Han found that he couldn't respond.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_Space, Darth Vader's Star Destroyer_

Darth Vader stood on the bridge of his Star Destroyer, gazing out at the fleet that had failed time and again to eliminate the Rebels. How could the Rebellion still be eluding them after three years? He supposed he should be thankful that the second Death Star's construction occupied the Emperor's time more than the war – otherwise his failure to ever locate a Rebel Base before they fled to a new one might be dealt with in a harsher way.

But his sons couldn't hide forever, Vader could feel it through the Force. It was only a matter of time before they would fall into his grasp and bring the rest of the Rebels with them. He was confident in that.

Voices arguing at one of the control panels brought him back to the real world.

"The report is only a fragment," Captain Piett was saying, "from a probe droid in the Hoth system, but it's the best lead we've had."

"We have thousands of probe droids searching the galaxy," Admiral Ozzel argued. "I want proof, not leads."

Vader strode over to them, something tingling in the Force, a slight indication that this might be what they were looking for.

"You found something?" he asked the two soldiers.

"Yes, my lord," said Captain Piett, that slight trace of fear in his face, the one all Imperials wore whenever Vader approached them. That was exactly how Vader wanted it. He relished in being feared. Out of fear came respect and unconditional obedience.

The captain reached over and played back the fragmented recording sent by the probe droid. The picture was fuzzy and the sound basically nonexistent, but Vader could feel something from there, something _familiar. _Yes . . . Han was there . . . very _close_ to the droid, in fact.

"That's it," the Sith said immediately, with complete confidence. "The Rebels are there."

Admiral Ozzel's mouth twisted. "My lord, there are so many uncharted settlements. It could be smugglers, it could be . . ."

"That _is _the system," Vader interrupted, his cold, unflinching tone leaving no room for argument, "and I am sure Skywalker is with them." _And Solo_, he added to himself, though he would never reveal his secret goal to his men. Luke was an important member of the Rebel Alliance, and many of the soldiers knew by now of the Emperor's endeavor to turn him to their side. Though they didn't understand exactly _why_ the Emperor wanted Luke in particular, they readily accepted it.

But they wouldn't be able to even begin understanding why Vader wanted Han.

"Set your course for the Hoth system," the Sith continued. "General Veers, prepare your men."

As he strode away from them, Vader felt an odd sort of satisfaction. _This_ time, they wouldn't escape. The Rebellion as a whole might get away, as they had so many times before, but the two Rebels he was after would soon be his. Soon his sons would be reunited with their father.

As for how he would avoid Palpatine's order to kill Han, he would figure that out when the time came.


	31. Chapter 31

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks to all the readers as always!

Chapter 31

The only predictable thing in this stupid old galaxy was unpredictability.

That was the thought running through Han's head as he worked on his ship. He had tried to leave the Rebellion in desperation to protect himself and protect those he cared about, but he couldn't have predicted that Luke would get himself lost in a blizzard and be in need of rescuing. Nor could he have predicted that an Imperial probe droid would land on this planet and raise the chances of the Empire attacking. They couldn't be far now – Leia was already planning out a counter-attack.

And Luke, of course, was going to be fighting in it.

Han had learned long ago that there was no sense in trying to convince the kid to stay behind when there was a battle to be fought, but that didn't mean he had to like it. So long ago, his father's old friend said he shared a path with Luke, and though he still didn't exactly understand what that meant, he had taken it upon himself to watch over him as best he could, even though the constant fighting made that difficult.

And there he was, once again wearing that orange fighter pilot's uniform, that outfit that seemed to make him a symbol of hope for many of his fellow Rebels, elevating him to something more than the twenty-two-year-old man he really was. It wasn't just the title "Commander" that made him that way either – it was something else, something innate. Maybe it was his youth, maybe his idealism, maybe his enthusiasm, or maybe it was just a combination of everything. Whatever it was, it was effective. Han even found that he himself wasn't immune to it. Despite any worry he might be feeling, he couldn't help also feeling a sense of admiration for the young man.

"Hi kid," he said as casually as he could manage.

"Hey," Luke called up to him, his eyes wide for some reason, as if they were saying goodbye for a longer time than just a battle.

"Are you all right?" Han asked, even though Luke must be all right if he was deemed healthy enough to go into battle. Han almost wished the kid hadn't yet recovered from his encounter with the Wampa – at least that would mean he'd be safe from the battle.

"Yeah . . ." Luke said, sounding like he was at a loss for words, though Han hadn't the slightest idea why that would be. "Han . . ." He trailed off, simply staring upward at the older man, his face gaining a sad, childlike expression that made Han distinctly uncomfortable.

"Be careful," said Han.

"You too," said Luke.

Han would have thought the kid would want to talk some more, but he was gone after that, without so much as a goodbye. Yes, Han decided, he was _definitely_ hiding something, though what it was continued to escape him as he returned to work.

"_Ben . . . Dagobah system . . . Yoda . . ."_

It was as if someone had poured a container of ice-cold water on his head. The things Luke mumbled when unconscious in the snowstorm. What Han had thought was random babbling might have been something else. Yoda . . . Yoda . . . _Yoda_ . . . the word sounded like he'd heard it before. He closed his eyes, grinding his teeth, chasing the word through his long-ago memories. It was like trying to locate a faint whisper in a dark cave – it took so much effort that his head began to hurt.

_Yoda . . ._

Han suddenly pictured himself sitting on his father's lap during that horrible Jedi Council meeting that decided his fate. He remembered burying his face in Anakin's robes, trying in vain to block out the voices announcing that they couldn't live together. He could recall no faces, no names, no identities of any sort, but the word _Yoda_ strangely felt like it came from there.

Was it the name of a Jedi?

Suddenly Han was short of breath. His eyes squeezed as tightly shut as they were physically capable, his every inch of consciousness concentrating on that day. There were still no names, no faces, only his father's embrace and the anonymous voices condemning them to be separated. Yet still the word _Yoda _insisted that it belonged there.

So did the word _Skywalker . . . _

"Shit," Han muttered. Whatever Luke was doing, it had something to do with the Jedi, something to do with Obi-Wan's crazy people. And Luke had deliberately kept it a secret from his best friends.

_So much for sharing a path, _Han thought bitterly.

- - - - - - - -

The Rebels were fleeing.

That wasn't what troubled Vader. Those Rebels were always fleeing. At least now that their base was destroyed, they would be wounded and scattered, easier to capture. For all reasonable purposes, this battle could be considered a victory, even though most of the leaders had escaped.

No, that wasn't Vader's concern.

Vader's concern was with one ship that escaped.

The same ship they had captured on the Death Star three years ago. The same ship that had brought his grown up children back to him before taking them away so soon afterward. That same ship had now disappeared into an asteroid field – with Han on it. Though he couldn't pick out Han's exact location, he could sense his son's feelings of triumph. It tormented him, this idea that Han was so gleeful about escaping his own father, even though he knew Han was completely oblivious to the truth.

Damn that Obi-Wan.

His old master kept returning to him, eternally taunting him about his children, how they were now against him, how they were fighting for the enemy. If only he could drive the man out of his head for good, forever abandon those painful memories. Yet it still slightly eased his torment to have someone very specific that he could blame.

Vader slowly turned his head from side to side, looking out at the asteroid field, as if staring long enough would magically reveal Han's location. His artificial hand reached up and brushed a bit of dust off the window as he tried to concentrate on the Force, even though it was telling him nothing. Only that Han and the others on his ship were alive.

Alive, but that was enough for now.

_You can't hide there forever, son,_ Vader thought, resenting the fact that Han couldn't receive messages through the Force. _Very soon, I will find you._


	32. Chapter 32

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks as always to the readers and reviewers. Yay, finally we get to some Han/Leia stuff! Yes, that's okay - they're not biologically related, after all.

Chapter 32

_The Millennium Falcon, somewhere in an asteroid cave._

Han was an insane idiot. Leia had known that for a long time, but now it was confirmed beyond any hope of rebuttal. Only an insane person would think driving into an asteroid cave was a good idea. When asked how long they would be there, only an idiot would say just, "Till they leave," as if the idea of running out of food hadn't even entered his mind. It looked like they would be stuck here for a long, long time.

And the fact that Han was always trying to flirt with her didn't help matters.

She had been thinking these things while aimlessly wandering the Falcon's corridors when she suddenly came across the door to Han's cabin. Immediately she stopped, turning to stare at the door, the entrance to the one part of the Falcon's interior that she had never seen. Pure curiosity kept her in place, staring at the door. After a moment or two, she pushed the button to open it, finding that it was unlocked.

She knew she shouldn't enter, but that only made the cabin more enticing. Her mind had barely deliberated the matter before she walked inside, taking in her surroundings. The covers on Han's bunk were messily strewn around, and the pillow was bent out of shape – just like Leia might have guessed. There was a dusty smell in the air, indicating that Han might not have cleaned the room for a long time, if ever.

She made her way over to Han's dresser, which was firmly bolted to the wall. It too smelled of dust. She carefully pushed the button to open the top drawer, hoping it wouldn't make too much noise. The drawer slid open, revealing wrinkled piles of clothes that looked like they had just been tossed in there, possibly without even being washed. Again, Leia could have predicted that this was how Han would maintain his cabin. She closed the top drawer and opened the second drawer. More tossed about clothes. It was only a few seconds before she closed the second drawer and opened the bottom drawer, expecting to find even more clothes, but instead finding something that finally stimulated her interest.

A toy starship sat in the center of the drawer, lovingly placed, a direct contrast to anything else in the cabin, or the entire ship for that matter. The toy was round, flat, and gray, with a small cockpit attached to the left side. In fact . . . it looked very much like the Falcon itself.

Slowly she picked it up and held it in her hands, running her fingers over the rough surface. No . . . it wasn't _exactly_ like the Falcon, but it held the Falcon's basic shape. Was it a childhood toy of some kind? Was _that_ why Han was so attached to this junky ship? He hadn't seemed at all like the nostalgic type to her.

That was when she noticed something else in the drawer, something that had been hidden by the toy. It was a small holo that showed a family of three seated on a couch – a father, a mother, and a little boy. The father had dark blonde curly hair and was wearing drab-looking black and brown clothes, smiling down at his son as he ruffled his hair. But Leia barely glanced at the father, for her attention was on the mother and the little boy in her lap.

The mother was smiling as widely as the father. She had a long mane of curly dark brown hair, gently brushing around her shoulders. Her deep brown eyes were focused on her son, the love in them apparent even when frozen in time. Leia found herself gulping, though she didn't know why. This was most likely a time before she was born, yet the woman looked familiar. No, not just familiar . . . it was as if a small voice was telling her that she should recognize her right away. The voice almost seemed to be scolding her for not immediately knowing who she was.

As for the child, he had a round, grinning face and a scruffy mess of brown hair, which made Leia grin along with him, for she could easily guess who _he_ was . . .

"So you wanna get started right away, eh Princess?"

Leia's head snapped towards the doorway, where Han was standing with a hand on each side of the doorframe and a triumphant grin on his face.

"What are you doing here??" she exclaimed before she had time to think.

Han began swaggering a few steps into the room. "This is _my _cabin, Your Worship. The question is what _you're_ doin' here. Unless of course, you want to make it _our_ cabin." His grin was growing so wide that it began to border on maniacal. "I _knew_ you'd be in here sooner or later, sweetheart. After all, even you can only suppress your desire for so long . . ."

Leia immediately held up the toy starship, thinking for a moment that it might be a secret weapon against his advances. "What's this?"

Han's expression abruptly shifted from cocky to shocked. His eyes bulged and his jaw dropped – he appeared to be struck speechless for quite a few good seconds, which further convinced Leia that it was something that had once been cherished, and likely still was cherished.

"Where . . . did . . . you . . . get . . . that?" Han finally sputtered out.

Leia fingered the toy. "You know where you keep it, don't you? I got it from there."

The pilot immediately held out his hand. "Give it to me," he said forcefully and desperately.

"Not until you tell me what it is," said Leia, lightly bouncing the toy in her hands.

"It's none of your damn _business _what it is!" Han growled. "Now _give it to me!_"

Leia knew she _should_ give it to him, but pushing his limits was just too much fun, and besides, he enjoyed doing it to _her _more than enough times. "Didn't you just say you wanted this to be _our_ cabin?" she scoffed. "How were you planning on hiding it from me _then?_"

Han's breath was coming out in short growls through his teeth. "I'll say it one more time – give it to me."

But Leia wasn't done yet – she reached into the drawer and pulled out the holo. "This is you, isn't it?" she asked, her thumb pointing at the little boy in the holo. "I've gotta admit it, you were cute back then. Even morons are cute when they're children."

Han lunged at her, snatching both the toy and the holo from her and pressing them close to his chest, reminding her of a child refusing to share his toys.

"Get out," he said in a slow, firm voice, his eyebrows lowered, his hands trembling slightly.

Leia sighed. "Come on, there's no reason to be ashamed of it . . ."

"I said get OUT!" Han yelled, the sudden volume in his voice irritating Leia's ears.

After staring at the items in his arms for a moment, Leia obeyed, hearing the door slide shut behind her. She resumed her walk through the corridors, but her mind remained in Han's cabin, wondering what other secrets the pilot might be concealing in there.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Leia was up late, kneeling over in the cockpit, doing whatever she could to help fix the Falcon, applying as much of her limited knowledge of starship mechanics as she could. Of course, she secretly doubted that Han knew much more about starship mechanics than she did – otherwise the ship wouldn't always be breaking down. How did she manage to get herself stuck in this situation, anyway? Why didn't she yank herself away from Han when he insisted on escorting her to her own ship?

She wasn't sure how late it was, but it was probably high time to call it a night. Han and Chewie had gone to bed a long time ago, and even 3PO had shut down – it must be well into the night by now. With a groan, she rose to her feet, her legs feeling stiff from kneeling on them for so long.

As she made her way to her cabin, she thought she heard a voice. She might have ignored it, but barely a second later she heard it again. Then it came again, and again, and again, growing in volume every time, soon becoming loud enough for Leia to make out words.

"NO! NO! NO! NO! STOP!! STOP!!"

Immediately she raced toward the voice's source, toward Han's cabin, not caring that she had been thrown out of that room only hours before. To her great relief, the door was unlocked – it swiftly slid open after she pushed the button. She quickly turned on the light, revealing where the screams were coming from.

Han was thrashing around in his bunk. His top covers had been kicked to the floor, and his sheets were tangled around his legs. As Leia slowly stepped closer to him, she could see sweat glistening on his cheeks and forehead.

"NO!" he cried out in his sleep. "NO! NO!"

"Han?" Leia said softly.

Now she saw tears coming out of his eyes, mixing with the sweat on his face. "NO! STOP!" he shouted again, unaware that Leia was cautiously touching his shoulder.

"Han?" she said again. "Can you hear me?"

All of a sudden he sat straight up, his eyes open but still blind to the outside world, his mind still trapped in the nightmare. "NO!" he screamed desperately. "DON'T DO IT! DON'T HURT HER! PLEASE! DON'T HURT HER!!"

Leia quickly grabbed him across the chest as his eyes closed again and his body slumped forward, the question of who "her" was only vaguely brushing her mind. As gently as she could, she eased herself onto the bunk, sitting down on his pillow. She felt that his pajama top was soaked in his sweat, and the tears were still freely flowing from his eyes. He hadn't ceased his crying out, but it was becoming progressively softer.

"No . . ." he continued to mumble, ". . . no . . . no . . . no . . . don't do it . . . please . . . stop . . . don't hurt her . . . Mommy . . ."

That deep, rough voice uttering that last word shocked Leia, causing her nerves to jump. It would have shocked her even if he was awake – it was something she previously wouldn't have been able to imagine, or if she had, it would have produced a comical image. Then it hit her that she was holding him. Could he feel it in his sleep? Was _she _the "Mommy" in his dream??

"Mommy . . ." he repeated, his voice growing in intensity once more, his body shaking violently, ". . . don't . . . hurt . . . Mommy . . . no . . . NO . . . NO . . . NO NO NO NO!!!"

Finally Leia found her voice. "Han, wake up!" she shouted, shaking him from behind. "Wake up! Wake UP!"

His screaming abruptly ceased as his eyes batted open. Loud, gasping breaths burst in and out of his mouth as his body continued to tremble.

"Han, it's all right," Leia said quickly, her hand moving up to stroke his sticky hair. "You're awake, you're safe now."

"Wh-what are you doing here . . .?" he muttered vaguely.

"I heard you screaming." She released him only long enough to bend over and pick his covers up from the floor. As soon as she threw the covers back over him, he leaned into her chest, silently declaring her a makeshift pillow.

Perhaps he wasn't completely awake, and that was why he wasn't kicking her out of his room once again. He might not even remember this tomorrow. Of course, if that was true, then it might be safe to ask him a few personal questions.

"What happened to your mother?" she said in as gentle a manner as she could execute.

Han's head jumped up only slightly, not enough to leave her chest. "How . . . how do you know anything about that . . .?"

"You were screaming, 'Don't hurt her!' over and over . . . and then you screamed, 'Mommy!'" Leia tensed up for a moment, preparing herself for Han's anger.

Han gulped loudly. "It's none of your business," he choked out.

"You were crying," Leia persisted. "It was something terrible, wasn't it?"

Han's breath was growing louder. "It's none of your business," he repeated, as if those were the only words he could think of.

Leia ran her fingers through his hair, pressing him closer to her. "I know, I know," she said, "but you can still tell me. I promise I won't tell anyone else, not even Chewie."

"Chewie knows . . ." Han gulped once again, sounding like he was trying to keep himself from bursting into tears. "And anyway, it was a long time ago . . ."

"That doesn't mean it can't still hurt," Leia offered gently.

A long silence followed. She continued stroking his head, her fingers wiping his tear-stained cheeks, her arms tucking him in their embrace. It struck her that he might use this against her tomorrow, that he would probably never let her live this down if he remembered it, but somehow it felt like that didn't matter right now – all that mattered was comforting him. They remained like this for so long that for a while she thought he had fallen back asleep, but then his voice interrupted the calmness.

"I was five . . ." he mumbled.

"Yes?" Leia said softly.

Han inhaled deeply. "My mom and dad . . . well, technically they were my adopted mom and dad, but they were the only parents I ever knew . . . they both died at the same time."

Leia felt her heart jump. "What happened?"

Han sniffed. "Don't remember all of it. Dad started worryin' all the time that Mom was gonna die soon . . . but then he ended up attackin' her on this planet with all this fire and lava . . ."

"Mustafar?"

"Yeah, I guess." Han sniffed again. "I don't know why he did it. H-he always loved us . . . always . . ." His breath was becoming unsteady. "Mom was taken to a hospital . . . but she didn't make it . . . and I was there . . . I watched her die . . . I watched her die . . ."

With that, a sob escaped Han's lips, giving the tears permission to flow again. Leia returned to stroking him. "It's all right," she whispered in a motherly tone, doing her best to soothe him. "It's all right . . . it's all right . . ."

"Got taken to an orphanage after that," Han said through his tears. "I never got adopted, though."

"What happened to your father?"

He gulped, trying unsuccessfully to swallow another sob. "Obi-Wan Kenobi – yes, _that_ guy, my family knew him – I think he killed my dad, tryin' to protect me and my mom. Not sure whether he actually killed him or my dad just killed himself, but in any case, my dad died."

Leia hid her shock, certain that Han's latter explanation had to be the real one. Obi-Wan wouldn't have killed a father unless he had absolutely no choice.

"Got kicked out of the orphanage the instant I turned eighteen," Han continued. "Had no real skills, couldn't get a real job, so I did what most orphans do – I turned to smuggling. Soon I met up with Chewie. He taught me how to fly a ship – I turned out to be damn good at it – and then before I knew it he made himself my bodyguard."

What sort of comfort could Leia offer? Could she tell him that she understood? _Did_ she understand? She lost her parents as well, she lost her entire _planet_, but she at least was able to grow up with them and have a normal childhood. She couldn't imagine what it would be like for a small child to watch his own father attack his mother, what sort of lifelong trauma that might cause.

"Go back to sleep," she finally said, even though those words were probably far from the most comforting ones she could think of.

Han pressed his head into her chest, the pressure of his weight beginning to make her nerves tingle. "I can't . . ." he muttered.

"Yes you can," Leia whispered. Her body reflexively began to sway like a mother rocking a baby to sleep, her hands continuing to give him comforting massages. After a few minutes, she felt him begin to relax. She began humming softly in hopes that it would soothe him, but then his head jerked upward.

"_Where did you learn that song??"_ he exclaimed.

Leia abruptly stopped humming, her eyes shifting from side to side, her mind trying to figure out why he was asking that when she thought she was just making it up. "I . . . I don't know . . . why do you ask?"

Han once more rested his head in her chest, beginning to settle down again. "Nothing . . ." he said, sounding half-asleep, ". . . it just sounded like something my mom used to sing . . . that's all . . ."

Leia swallowed, feeling a very strong twitch in her stomach. Where _had_ she learned it?

"Don't stop . . ." Han mumbled.

Leia resumed her humming and soothing gestures, trying unsuccessfully to distract herself from her bewilderment, trying to think it out logically. Maybe it was some classic children's lullaby that her own mother sang as well? That could be . . . but somehow it didn't _feel_ like the answer.

Soon Han was deeply asleep, the nightmares banished from his head, but Leia stayed with him for a long time after he nodded off. Suddenly he had become a different person to her – someone with pain, someone with emotion, someone with a past. Someone more than just the names she often called him, even someone more than the fighter in the Rebellion. Perhaps there was even more to his pathetic attempts at flirting with her as well.


	33. Chapter 33

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Wow, a fast update for once! Anyway, thanks again to all the readers.

Chapter 33

The next morning, Leia came to the breakfast table hesitantly, unsure about what Han would do today. The incident from last night was fresh in her head – she wasn't even sure if she'd gotten any actual sleep after it – but she still didn't know if Han would remember it at all. If he didn't, how could she keep herself from revealing that she knew about his past?

Han and Chewie were already enjoying their breakfast, while 3PO stood next to the table, preparing to clear away dirty dishes. Leia sat down with the slightest bit of hesitance, noting that Han seemed to be averting his eyes away from her.

"Good morning," she said as cheerfully as she could manage.

"Hi," said Han, looking down at his food.

Chewie roared his own morning greeting.

"Oh, good morning, Your Highness," 3PO said. "Allow me to serve you some breakfast."

"Thank you, 3PO," said Leia.

A few seconds of awkward silence followed, with Han still looking down. Leia gulped, trying to motivate herself to reach into her pocket, to show Han the precious item she had brought, the item that would reveal how much of last night he remembered. He certainly wasn't giving any clues himself.

"Han," she finally forced herself to say, "I have something to show you."

Han's eyes looked up without his head actually moving. "What?"

Before she could talk herself out of it, she reached into her pocket and placed the precious item in the center of the table for all to see. It was a holo even smaller than the one in Han's drawer, but it was equally cherished as that one.

"That's me," she said, "with my parents. I was around ten when that was taken."

Han's eyebrows lifted as he slowly reached over and took the holo, making Leia feel nervous just to have someone else touch it. It made her even more nervous when Han appeared to be studying it, scrutinizing every detail.

"You were pretty," Han said, handing the holo to Chewie.

Leia had to restrain herself from saying something sarcastic. It amazed her how even after last night she still automatically interpreted everything he said as an attempt to bed her. "Thank you," she forced out, concentrating on keeping sarcasm out of her tone.

Chewie roared something that sounded like an agreement that she had been a pretty child, handing the holo back to her.

"How'd you save it?" Han asked.

_Save it._ Leia found herself noting that he hadn't added, "from your planet blowing up," as if he was careful not to open up that old wound. She gazed down at the holo, at her ten-year-old self standing between Bail and Breha Organa on the balcony of the Alderaanian palace, smiles on all their faces, the mountains in the background. She was the only thing in the holo that still existed – not just the only person, but the only _thing._

"I always keep it in my pocket," she finally said. "I had it in my inside skirt pocket when I was captured – they never found it." She sighed. "I guess now it's one of the last surviving holos of Alderaan." She looked up at Han, seeing what looked like genuine compassion in his face. "You probably know that I was adopted too."

"Why of course I do, Your Highness," said 3PO, oblivious to the fact that the question hadn't been directed at him. "After all, it is quite common knowledge around the galaxy."

Han didn't even tell the droid to shut up. His face was scrunched in embarrassment – he had obviously caught Leia's use of the word "too." He breathed through an open mouth for a few moments before speaking.

"Yeah, I know," he said.

Chewie gave what sounded like an inquiring roar.

"Yeah Chewie, I told her," Han said in a brushing-off manner.

"Captain Solo, whatever did you tell her?" 3PO asked.

"None of your business, Goldenrod," Han muttered.

"Oh, but it must be something _quite_ important if you feel the need to hide it so," 3PO persisted. "Perhaps if you tell me, I might be able to assist you."

Han suddenly slammed his hand on the table, rattling the dishes. "It wouldn't be any of your damn business even if you _remembered _it!"

"What?" Leia exclaimed.

"Oh dear," said 3PO, taken aback. "If you'll excuse me, I feel that I'm not welcome here. Should anyone need me, I will be in the kitchen."

After the droid hobbled away, Leia looked back at Han, who was once more staring down at his food, trying to avoid the weight of her eyes. "What was that all about?"

Han sighed. "Whaddaya mean? You and I both know that he's impossible," he mumbled, sounding like he was trying to sound casual but not doing a very good job of it.

"Yes, but why would he _remember_ your childhood?"

Han sighed again, suddenly interested in playing with his fork. For a moment Leia thought that she might have better luck asking this question when he had another nightmare, but then he said, "My mom and dad . . . they had a protocol droid. He sometimes babysat me when they were working."

Leia's eyebrows suddenly shot up. "And?"

Han sighed for the third time. "And after they died, Obi-Wan took him away and had him mind-wiped."

Leia struggled to conceal her shock. "Wait a minute, you're saying your parents owned _3PO?_"

"It doesn't make any difference _now_," Han said with sudden anger.

"Why not?"

Han bared his teeth at her, as if he were scrunching down obscenities that wanted to be shouted. "What part of 'mind-wiped' don't you understand? What's the point of bein' my parents' droid if he can't remember shit about them? He might as well be the Emperor's old droid."

He suddenly sounded out of breath as he quickly took a long sip of juice. Chewie patted his shoulder and said something comforting that Leia once again couldn't understand. She would have to learn the Wookiee language someday.

"I'm sorry," she finally said, though those words were very unlikely to make him feel any better.

Han inhaled loudly, sounding like he was sucking in his breath. "Could I see that holo again?"

"If I can see the holo of you and your parents again." For a moment Leia was surprised to hear those words come out of her mouth. Why did she feel the need to see it again? As soon as she asked herself that question, Han's mother's face swirled around in her mind, once more insisting that she had seen her before.

Han glared at her. "And _why?_ Why'd you feel a need to snoop in there in the first place?"

"Oh come on," said Leia, her instinct to fight with him once more going strong. "I'm sure I'm not the _first_ woman to visit your cabin."

"No, you're not," Han admitted, "but none of _them_ ever looked in that drawer."

Chewie laughed, causing Han to glare at him. Leia couldn't help but give a little snicker as well. "Well then, I'm honored to be the first."

The former smuggler gave a growling sigh, showing his palms in mock surrender. "All right, I'll go get it. But you'd better not blab a word of this to Goldenrod."

"Agreed."

- - - - - - - - -

Five minutes later, Leia and Han were sitting at the table in the lounge, the breakfast forgotten, their attention completely absorbed in each other's childhood holos. They were both relaxed, something that didn't happen often when they were together. Leia found herself starting to admit that Han _could_ be pleasant to be around when he wasn't trying to be romantic.

But there was still a tiny bit of uneasiness within her when she looked at Han's mother. That gentle, smiling face felt like it belonged to _her_ in some strange way, even though this woman was long dead, probably dead before Leia was even born. It was irritating, like the fading details of an interesting dream.

"What was her name?" she asked.

Han gazed down at his family holo, the tiniest of smiles on her face. "Padme," he answered, uttering the name with a dreamy air.

"Padme," Leia repeated, mentally pairing the name with the woman in the holo – it fit beautifully. "It's a pretty name."

"Yeah," Han murmured, "specially when my dad said it. He was always gushin' about her." He looked up at Leia. "His name was Anakin, by the way."

"Anakin," Leia repeated, shifting her focus to Han's father. His smile was genuine, so full of love for his family. The longer she stared at him, the harder it became to believe that he was capable of killing his wife. Were Han's memories of that time mixed up? Did he only _think_ that his father attacked his mother?

No . . . a nightmare like the one Han had last night wouldn't likely come from false memories. But _what_ could make such a loving father do something like that?

"By the way . . ." Han said in a mumble, ". . . thanks. You know . . . for last night."

Leia gulped – she hadn't been expecting him to actually acknowledge it, much less show gratitude. Suddenly she felt touched, sensing that this wasn't something he would do for any of the other women who had been in his cabin. Was it true? _Was_ his attraction to her more than physical?

"You're welcome," she said softly.

That afternoon, they kissed.


	34. Chapter 34

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks for all the reviews! This chapters pretty much a "transitional" chapter, but hopefully it's not too boring.

Chapter 34

_Darth Vader's Star Destroyer_

"What is thy bidding, my master?"

The hologram of Palpatine's head was gigantic, nearly twice as tall as Vader was, which made his reverence for his master increase. Even see-through and flickering, Vader could feel the weight of his master's presence. When he spoke, his voice seemed to surround Vader and smother what was left of his ears.

"There is a great disturbance in the Force," the Emperor said.

"I have felt it too," Vader agreed, even thought he wasn't sure _exactly_ what sort of disturbance Palpatine meant.

"The young Rebel who destroyed the Death Star . . ." Palpatine said slowly, ". . . he is becoming a great threat."

"He's just a boy," Vader replied, concealing his shock at what his master said about his son. He had seen Luke prove his worth as a fighter, but it wasn't like he was the only capable fighter on the Rebels' side. He was Force-sensitive, of course, but with Obi-Wan's death he wouldn't have anyone to train him in his abilities – his power would remain dormant.

"But his knowledge in the Force is growing," Palpatine argued, still in that slow, calm voice. "Every day, he becomes more aware of his power."

"How is that possible?" Vader asked, once more concealing his shock. "Obi-Wan has been dead for three years."

"There is another teacher, far powerful than your old master," Palpatine explained. "Your son has sought him out and found him." His wrinkled face stretched out a bit, as if informing his apprentice that the other teacher was obvious. "You know who it is, don't you?"

Vader wanted to say it was impossible, that the greatest Jedi Master of all must certainly be dead by now, but he was unable to form any sort of response. The Force was insisting on something very different, insisting that somewhere in the far reaches of the galaxy, the master still lived and was still able to pass on his knowledge.

"Yoda . . ." he finally growled, hardly believing it as he spoke, yet realizing that it must be the truth.

Palpatine nodded, a highly disapproving look on his face, as if it was Vader's fault that Yoda was still alive. "The son of Skywalker must _not_ become a Jedi. If he does, that will be our downfall."

"I told you that he can be turned, Master," Vader quickly interjected. "We will soon have him serving _us."_

Palpatine twitched his lips. "You sound so confident," he said in a bemused manner.

"It is the truth." A plan was forming in Vader's mind as he was speaking it. "His feelings for those he cares about are strong – let his older brother be the key."

Palpatine still didn't appear impressed. "His older brother?"

"Yes," said Vader, concentrating on not losing his confidence. "We have his brother trapped in an asteroid field – along with the Princess of Alderaan. Skywalker cares strongly for them both. Let their suffering _lure_ him into our grasp. It will be quite easy to turn him then." The steady tone with which he spoke his words concealed his uncertainty about what to do with Han once they had him. He felt uneasy with the idea of using his older son as mere bait.

"Yes . . ." Palpatine mused, ". . . yes, that just might work. We might actually have a use for your older boy after all." His tone bordered on humorous, as if teasing Vader for caring about what happened to Han. "Are you certain that you can capture him?"

"Absolutely, my master." Vader bowed one final time, rose, and exited the chamber before Palpatine could ask what he would do with Han after he had fulfilled his purpose as bait for Luke.

- - - - - - - - - -

Most of the Imperial soldiers were adamantly against the idea of dealing with bounty hunters, claiming they could never be trusted, but their trustworthiness wasn't what concerned Vader, since the Empire could easily match any price that anyone else offered. The only concern the Sith had was how quickly they could locate the Millennium Falcon and how long they could hold the prisoners before he got there.

And in that aspect, one particular bounty hunter was no disappointment. Only a few days after being sent on the mission, the bounty hunter Boba Fett contacted Vader with news.

"I have located the Millennium Falcon," his hologram said.

"Good," said Vader. "Where are they heading?"

"To a small planet called Bespin," Boba replied. "Their hyperdrive is damaged, so they will take a while to arrive, which gives us the opportunity to get there before them."

"Perfect," said Vader, a plan already forming in his head. "Do they suspect that you have been tracking them?"

"They have no clue, sir."

"Good. Meet me on this planet – before they arrive."

"Yes sir." Boba bowed his head before his hologram faded.

Vader felt truly excited for the first time in a long while. He could sense that soon he would be reunited with his sons and they would know the truth about their father. The three of them could join forces and become unimaginably powerful – perhaps even powerful enough to overthrow the Emperor and claim the galaxy for themselves.

- - - - - - - - -

_The Millennium Falcon_

"So just how did you get to know this Lando person?" Leia asked as the planet Bespin grew larger and larger through the Falcon's window. She was temporarily seated in the copilot's seat while Chewie went to get something to eat.

"Long story," Han muttered, pretending to be concentrating on flying the ship.

"So tell it to me," said Leia, making sure there wasn't a hint of question in her voice.

Han rubbed his chin with one hand, which called Leia's attention to his thoughtful eyes. "Well, he was one of the other kids at the orphanage. Few years older than me, but he was a lotta fun to pick on."

"Pick on?"

"Yeah," said Han. "I was quite the little bully back there. And Lando, even though he was older than me, he was so scrawny. Easy one to get in a fight with when I was feelin' angry."

Leia decided not to press the question of why Han would be angry all the time.

"Plus he would always hit back when I hit him," Han continued. "That way when I got punished, at least I had someone else gettin' punished with me. Anyway, years later, on one of my first smuggling missions, I met up with him again – can you believe it? I'd turned to smugglin' and he'd turned to gamblin', so now we clicked. Suddenly we were friends, as if all our childhood fights didn't matter. Funny how things work out sometimes, isn't it?"

"Yes," Leia agreed, trying to hide her amusement at this latest bit of information about Han's past. "Very funny."


	35. Chapter 35

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Hey all, thanks for reviewing! Sorry it took me so long to update . . . this chapter was hard.

Chapter 35

_Bespin_

Lando Calrissian wasn't the scrawny, awkward man Leia had imagined from Han's description of him. In fact, he was a bit muscular, and he carried himself with an air of confidence and sophistication. His brown face with the black mustache was usually smiling, and he was quite courteous and friendly, though he too made a few attempts to flirt with Leia. She imagined that if Han hadn't dropped a few subtle hints that she was already "taken," Lando's flirting would be more frequent, but she didn't particularly mind it. Perhaps she was just getting too used to people acting romantic with her from being around Han too much. In any case, the flirting wasn't the reason why she found herself taking a dislike to Lando.

No, she wasn't sure _what _was making her dislike Lando. It certainly wasn't his hospitality – he had provided them with a suite that consisted of a large lounge area and three bedrooms, plus they ate in his dining room for free. It wasn't his manner either, even when she took the flirting into account. No, it was something . . . else. Friendly as he was, there seemed to be something fake about him, though Leia couldn't exactly explain it.

Of course, maybe it was just the fact that 3PO had gone missing on the day they arrived and no one had heard from him since. She couldn't fathom why Lando or anyone in Cloud City would want to steal a protocol droid, but she couldn't shake the strangeness of 3PO's absence as she paced around the lounge area of their suite, wearing a long maroon dress Lando had given her. It wasn't her preferred attire, but she wore it to be polite.

Han emerged from his bedroom, a pleased look on his face. "The ship's almost ready," he announced. "Two or three more things and we should be in great shape."

"The sooner the better," fumed Leia. "No one has seen or knows anything about 3PO – he's been gone too long for . . ." She was cut off by Han gripping her shoulders and kissing her forehead.

"Relax," he said. "I'll talk to Lando about it."

"I don't _trust_ Lando," Leia argued, sitting down on the white couch.

"Well _I _don't trust him either," said Han, sitting next to her. "But he _is_ my friend."

Leia rolled her eyes. "He doesn't even pronounce your name right."

Han gave a small snicker through his nose. "It's been like that since the orphanage – I've given up tryin' to correct it. Sides, that gives me one thing I can still tease him about."

Despite her uneasiness, Leia had to grin, but the moment of lightness was interrupted by Chewie entering the room, carrying a box in which lay the pieces of what was once 3PO. The Wookiee was roaring excitedly about where he had finally located the droid.

"Found him in a junk pile," Han translated.

"What a mess," Leia grimaced as she got up and walked over to Chewie, who was holding part of 3PO's arm in one hand and part of his leg in the other. "Chewie, do you think you can fix him?"

Leia didn't need Han's translation to figure out that the noise Chewie made meant he wasn't sure if he could.

"Lando's got people who could fix him," Han offered.

"No thank you," Leia said sharply.

The door slid open once again and their host stepped into the room without even asking if he was invited. "Am I interrupting anything?" Lando asked in his smooth voice.

"Not really," Leia answered hastily, hoping that would help him leave sooner.

Lando gave her a wide, admiring smile when he noticed she was wearing the dress he had given her. "You look absolutely beautiful. You truly belong among us in the clouds."

"Thank you," Leia said, trying not to look disgusted as Lando strode up to her and took her hand.

"Would you care to join me for a little refreshment?" Lando asked, bringing Leia's hand up to his lips.

Han was immediately at her side, sticking out his arm for Leia to take – Leia could immediately tell that he was jealous, and to her complete surprise, she actually felt flattered by that.

"Everyone's invited, of course," Lando quickly added as Leia took Han's arm.

"Sure," Han mumbled, not taking his eyes off of Leia, as if he worried that if he looked away she would run off with Lando.

Lando noticed the pile of 3PO's remains, looking slightly amused at the sight. "Something wrong with your droid?"

"No," Han answered. "No problem. Why?"

- - - - - - - - -

Vader could sense them getting nearer and nearer, suspecting nothing, unaware of the trap they were walking into. He placed his gloved hands on the table in front of him in a relaxed manner, every ounce of his being trying to deny the nervousness dwelling far within him. Within a minute he would have Han, and Han would lure Luke into his grasp . . . but then what? How would he go about revealing his identity to either of them? His fingers curled, grasping the table's edge. Luke would serve him and the galaxy would be theirs. He and his children would finally be safe. Yes, that had to be his only thought right now.

The door slid open, and there he was. Vader instantly rose, keeping his focus on grown-up Han and the shock flowing off of him through the Force. The younger man immediately drew his blaster and began firing rapidly at the Sith.

Vader was amused. _Now now Han, is that any way to treat your father?_ He stuck out his hand, easily blocking the blasts with the Force. After letting the shock register with his son for a few moments, he used the Force to pull the blaster out of his hand. It flew over the table and into Vader's hand.

"We would be _honored_ if you would join us," the Sith said, the first words he had spoken to his son in over twenty years.

Stormtroopers surrounded the small group, just as planned. Lando Calrissian – that fool who was so willing to be a pawn, so easily swayed by a few empty promises – approached Han with a cold look on his face. "I had no choice," he said. "They arrived right before you did. I'm sorry."

Han licked his lips, staring angrily at the other man. "Well I'm sorry too."

The door closed, sealing the prisoners in the dining room. Vader felt himself smiling behind his mask, which was quite remarkable – he couldn't remember the last time he had smiled. At long last, he had his son back.

"Do have a seat," the Sith said courteously, continuing to play the role of the gracious host, extending his arm to the chairs beside him before sitting down at the table's head himself.

The three prisoners looked at each other, as if each were seeking advice on what to do from the other two. After a moment, the Wookiee glared at Vader and bared his fangs. The Wookiee – now _that _was an expendable prisoner.

Lando decided to take the initiative and sat down. "C'mon guys," he encouraged, "you at least get a meal out of this."

Han gave a hard, shallow, humorless laugh as he sat down at the side of the table across from Lando – in the chair closest to Vader, which was exactly what the Sith wanted. The other prisoners followed his lead – the princess sat next to Han and the Wookiee sat on her other side.

Lando's chefs served the food – though of course Vader did not eat. Since his body was destroyed, he could only actually _eat_ in his meditation chambers where there was a large enough concentration of oxygen for him to remove his mask for a short time. He rarely ate there, though. Now nutrients were regularly inserted into his body through needles in his suit. He rarely thought about it, but when one of the naive chefs actually placed a plate of salad in front of him, a small, fleeting regret flew through him, a vague awareness that he might actually miss the pleasure of eating if he allowed himself to think about it. Eating quickly in a tiny meditation chamber wasn't like savoring a feast in the social atmosphere of a dining room.

Han stared at his own salad, a scowl on his face. "And you actually expect us to eat your food now like everythin's all hunky-dory? How do we know you ain't gonna poison us?"

"Calrissian, take a bite of Captain Solo's food," Vader ordered sharply.

Lando nervously shifted his eyes before he reached across the table and took a forkful of Han's salad. He hesitated only for a moment before putting it in his mouth. "Mmm, it's good," he said. "Those chefs never let me down." He looked at Han with an awkward grin. "See Han, it's not poisoned. Try some."

Han pointed his cold scowl at Lando, but after a moment he did begin eating. Vader couldn't help but stare at him, noticing every movement of his arm, watching him chew, listening to him swallow. Those forbidden memories wanted to surface again, and when he was concentrating on his son instead of struggling to silence them, the image of sitting at the dinner table with Padme and five-year-old Han appeared in his mind. He heard Han giggling with his mouth full . . . Padme gently reminding him to eat his vegetables . . .

And now Han was close to him again. Vader was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable. No, far more than just a bit uncomfortable. His son's Force signature was throbbing in his soul, making his other senses far more acute to Han's presence. Suddenly he resented the red tint in his mask, longed to see Han in natural colors.

The awkward silence continued for several long minutes before Lando decided to break it. "This reminds me of the orphanage, eh Han? Cept the food's better, of course." He turned to Vader, as if he thought the Sith would actually be interested in his childhood. "You know, he and I were kids together in an orphanage."

_Orphanage? _So after Obi-Wan took Han away, he placed him in an orphanage? The very thing Vader had wanted his son _not_ to experience?

"And boy, was he messed up," Lando continued with a nervous laugh.

"Lando . . ." Han growled.

"Well you _were,_" Lando said to Han before turning to Vader again. "He was always getting into fights with the other kids, me included. Then he talked in his sleep almost every night." He raised the pitch of his voice. "'Don't do it, no, don't hurt Mommy! Don't hurt Mommy!'"

"_Lan-do!"_ Han growled again.

"He even tried to kill himself once!" Lando's voice was growing more and more relaxed, as if he relished in revealing Han's flaws. "Oh yeah, and he was a bedwetter too."

"Shut UP!" Han yelled, leaning over the table, his teeth ground.

"Enough," Vader commanded in a steady voice, holding up his hand, knowing he would need to give no reason, knowing his commandment would be obeyed. Sure enough, everyone was quiet after that, leaving Vader to muse on this latest information. Fights? Nightmares? A suicide attempt? Was all this true, or was Lando making things up for the sake of gossip?

Almost without any thought, Vader reached into his son's mind, probing his memories. With great dismay, he saw that Lando's tauntings were all true. He saw his child growing up alone, never adopted, so often overcome by anger, fighting violently with the other children. He saw Han staring at himself in the refresher mirror, tears streaming down his face as he cut his chin open. He saw the visions of that final day on Mustafar coming to his son night after night, which brought discomfort to the Sith.

Now Han was glaring at Vader, as if he suspected that his mind was being probed. Waves of anger flowed off of him, directed not at Lando but at Vader. No, it wasn't mere anger – it was hatred. Hatred towards his own father. Vader tried to calm himself . . . after all Han didn't _know_ he was his father . . . not yet, anyway . . . but with or without that knowledge, Han still carried anger at his father, whom he blamed for his mother's death. Vader wanted to yell at his son, grab him by the shoulders and demand that he take it all back.

"_It seems that in your anger, you killed her . . ."_

Why were Palpatine's words of so long ago haunting him again? Why couldn't he smother his shame the way he had been doing for more than twenty years? It had once been so easy. Why did he want to cry out again like he had done on that first night, when the Emperor told him his family was dead?

Han's memories were still pouring into his head. So much suffering . . . so much suffering . . . yet Vader knew he would have to suffer again. He knew it too well – merely capturing Luke's friends wouldn't be enough to lure him here. The boy might sense them in danger, but he would be instructed to stay away – and Vader sensed that he would listen. Though he may be frightened, he would hope his friends would be able to escape without his help.

No, he needed to sense something far more urgent than that.

He needed to know that his friends were _suffering._

Someone needed to suffer.

Vader suddenly felt ill. He glanced at the princess, the princess who still brought Padme to his mind, remembering how well she had resisted the mind probe. Would she resist torture again? Would that hinder Luke's ability to sense _her _pain? No, Vader concluded, that was irrelevant. The one who suffered had to be the one Luke cared for the most.

The one Luke cared for the most . . .

For a moment Vader reached into Leia's mind, hoping to find some sign that she and Luke were in love, that Luke cared for _her _the most, even though the thought of the princess suffering still brought a twinge of regret to the Sith.

He found great friendship, but not love, which brought Vader a sense of relief, though he had no idea why. Once more he returned to Han's mind, focusing his attention on his memories of Luke. He saw Han comforting Luke when the boy had nightmares . . . their dinners together . . . the many evenings spent with their small "gang." The memories came so fast, each one feeling like a knife. There couldn't be any doubt on whose suffering would affect Luke the strongest, who would bring him here the fastest.

It would have to be his brother.


	36. Chapter 36

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks as always to the readers! Oh, the information about Vader's ears comes from wookieepedia, which says that his eardrums were destroyed on Mustafar, so now he hears from transmissions into his brain. I'm not sure how that fits in with Vader being able to hear Luke with his mask off, but whatever – that won't really matter in this story, so I used the idea.

Chapter 36

Han's screams echoed down the hallways, pulsing inside Vader's brain, feeling like pressure against his ears even though his eardrums no longer functioned. Sound waves were transmitted directly into his brain, but perhaps through habit, they still felt like they came from his useless ears. Now he was wishing that technology of this sort didn't exist, that he had simply remained deaf.

And still Han screamed.

It wasn't as bad as it sounded, Vader tried to convince himself. While a switchboard was excruciatingly painful, it wouldn't cause any lasting harm. Han would be fine afterwards – there was no need for concern.

But still Han screamed.

Of course, Han being fine afterwards presented something of a problem. Vader still didn't know what he would do with Han after he had successfully lured Luke here. Palpatine would surely expect Han to be killed once he had expended his usefulness – and to complicate matters, Boba Fett had indicated that he wanted Han for himself.

Boba Fett wanted Han . . .

Vader knew bounty hunters could easily be swayed by a few credits . . . could that possibly be used to his advantage? Yes . . . he mused . . . it probably could . . .

Han kept screaming.

Vader's hands clenched as he stormed down the hall, considering the likelihood of convincing the Emperor that Han might continue to be a useful tool in turning Luke to the dark side. He knew perfectly well that threatening a loved one's life could be very effective . . . but _taking _a loved one's life was far _more_ effective. Yes, Vader realized, _that _would be what Palpatine would want. Han's death would make Luke far more susceptible; it would make him lose his faith in his Jedi training and be more likely to accept an alternate view.

Perhaps giving Han to the bounty hunter was the best option to keep him alive after all.

Or perhaps . . .

Han was still screaming, irritating Vader to the breaking point, making him think he'd had quite enough of this. He'd lost track of how long the torture had been going on, but it had to have been enough to lure Luke here by now. He stormed into the torture chamber, finding the stormtroopers standing motionless, passively watching Han's body vibrate violently with every electric shock, every needle, passively listening to his cries.

Then the screams abruptly ceased, though the switchboard continued to run and his body continued to shake. Vader noticed Han's head lolling and realized that he had passed out. For a moment he simply stared at his son, thinking about how pathetic he looked. Poor pathetic Han, forced into this life because his mother refused to listen. Vader shook his head. If only Padme had agreed to rule by his side so long ago . . .

"Turn it off," Vader ordered to the stormtroopers. "He's unconscious – there is no point in continuing. Take him to the others."

The stormtroopers obeyed, as they always did, turning off the switchboard, unlocking Han's binders, and catching his body when he collapsed into their arms. They dragged Han out of the room, hardly looking at Vader, either not noticing his intense stare at the prisoner or not caring about it. Vader much preferred being ignored right now – it freed him to think of a plan, though he found that he couldn't concentrate on a plan until his son was gone.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

"This facility is crude, but it should be adequate to freeze Skywalker for his delivery to the Emperor." Vader consciously made his voice sound as neutral as possible, even though he knew that the stormtroopers would never suspect that he might have an emotional attachment to any of the prisoners. After all, stormtroopers never suspected anything. They simply watched.

"Lord Vader," Lando was saying as he stared down into the carbon freezer, "we only use this facility for carbon freezing. If you put him in there, it might kill him."

"I do not want the Emperor's prize damaged," Vader declared. "We will test it – on Captain Solo."

It was said. There could be no turning back on it. Han would be a test subject for a very dangerous process . . . yet somehow Vader felt calm. The future was speaking to him, telling him with complete certainty that his son would survive the process. It was, in fact, the best way to protect him.

Lando was staring at him, his eyes wide with fear. "Lord Vader . . . we never agreed to this."

"Whatever we agreed to is irrelevant," Vader said firmly. "If you wish to protect your city, you will do as I say."

The foolish man nodded hesitantly, his eyes down. He was so _easy _to dominate that Vader almost pitied him. He still remained oblivious to the fact that the Imperials wouldn't be leaving his city no matter what he did.

As Lando slowly, carefully walked away, Vader's mind drifted to the prisoners' cell, harnessing the Force to see what was occurring within. Han was sleeping now, exhausted from the torture, lying on a bed that was little more than a board sticking out of the wall – if he rolled over just a little bit he would fall. His face was bruised and there were dark circles under his eyes, but that was none of Vader's concern. It would all heal in time. In fact, as Vader well knew, pain made people stronger.

The princess was kneeling next to him, stroking his hair as tenderly as a mother, occasionally kissing his forehead. Vader felt great sadness coming from her . . . even worry, and with it came a sudden realization, something Vader couldn't believe he hadn't figured out earlier.

She was in love with Han.

And, most likely, Han was in love with her.

He smiled under his mask for the second time that day. His son was in love – the very idea amused him for some strange reason. Love brought foolishness – it might indeed be easier to lure Han to their side than Vader had previously thought. Perhaps the princess hadn't yet expended her use. She could, in fact, be quite valuable to their cause.

After all, the Sith thought, once his family had taken over the Empire, they would need heirs to the throne.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

The three prisoners were led into the carbon freeze chamber, all with their heads held high, none succumbing to the fear they must be feeling. None flinched at the bursts of smoke exploding around them, nor did they appear affected by the heat in the chamber. The only one showing any hint of fear was the half-repaired protocol droid strapped to the Wookiee's back, who was wailing that he hadn't been put together right.

Vader tried not to think about the familiar tone of the droid's voice – or the droid's likely identity.

Han was now leaning over Lando with anger in his eyes. "What's goin' on . . . _buddy?_" he asked with obvious disdain.

"You're being put into carbon freeze," Lando said without looking his former friend in the eye. There was the slightest hint of hesitance in his voice, a small sign that he regretted what was about to happen, but he didn't regret it enough to try to stop it. The poor fool was caught in the tide, helplessly floating in the waves of events.

"What if he doesn't survive?" Boba Fett asked. "He's worth a lot to me."

It was irritating, the way the bounty hunter talked about Han being worth a lot. Han was no more than money to him – bounty hunters knew nothing about worth. Han's worth to Boba was nothing compared to his worth to Vader.

"The Empire will compensate you if he dies," the Sith said, effectively hiding his disgust. "Put him in."

Of course it couldn't be that simple. Nothing was ever simple with the Rebels. The Wookiee immediately attacked the stormtroopers, throwing them down with his mighty strength, determined not to let any of them near his friend. Vader was about to give them orders to shoot him when the strangest thing happened.

"Stop Chewie, STOP!" Han cried, staring up at the Wookiee, who surprisingly calmed down long enough for the stormtroopers to bind his wrists.

"There'll be another time," Han continued, sounding like he was struggling for words. "The princess . . . YOU have to take care of her." He stared into the Wookiee's eyes. "You hear me?"

Yes, Vader concluded, there could be no doubt now – Han was in love with the princess. There was sorrow flowing off of him, sorrow that everything was over for the two of them, sorrow that they had gotten such little time together – and that most of that time had been taken for granted. Now he was kissing the princess – a long, passionate kiss that was broken away when the stormtroopers dragged him to the freezing platform, yet his lips remained pursed, longing to touch her again.

Vader restrained himself from thinking about Padme's kisses.

"I love you!" the princess suddenly exclaimed, her eyes wide with distress, yet void of tears.

"I know," Han replied, his eyes wide as well, staring directly at her, yet his voice was filled with regret. Vader suddenly felt a wave of shame emitting from his son, as if even when facing death, he was still afraid to admit his feelings.

Vader watched his son sink down into the depths of the carbon freezer, thankful that his mask would hide whatever emotion his face might betray. He kept his stare focused on his son's eyes, which were gazing upward, locked on the princess, who, though visibly disturbed, still shed no tears. She was emotionally strong – a good trait to pass on to any heirs she might produce. Yes, Vader could see her making a fine empress someday.

The Wookiee howled in sorrow as Han reached the bottom and instantly vanished in a thick blast of smoke. For the very briefest of moments, Vader felt something that might have resembled panic. Instantly he reached out with the Force, a part of him melding with his son, feeling the jolts of pain shooting through him, the unbearable cold, the horrible panic, yet refusing to let go. Han _would _survive the freezing . . . he _would._

Vader's soul remained with his son as his body solidified and his awareness faded away, only leaving when the final crackling said the process was complete. The sound seemed to pound in Vader's brain, much like Han's screaming had, but he kept his composure as Han's frozen form was lifted out of the chamber.

The frozen Han landed on the floor with a loud _thud_, revealing his grotesque form to all present. The carbonite had perfectly preserved his face, his screaming mouth, his tightly shut eyes, even what appeared to be teardrops emitting from his eyes and saliva emitting from his mouth. His carbonite-encased hands were sticking up, his fingers curled, as if he had been desperately trying to escape the freezing chamber even though it was a useless effort.

Lando kneeled down to read the life monitors on the side of the box. Though Vader already knew what had occurred in the freezer, he also knew he had to play the part of the indifferent one, so he asked, "Well Calrissian, did he survive?"

"Yes, he's alive," Lando replied, "and in perfect hibernation."

Vader turned to Boba Fett, who, even through his helmet, appeared to be staring greedily at his prize. "He's all yours, bounty hunter." He turned back to Lando. "Calrissian, take the princess and the Wookiee to my ship."

"You said they'd be left in the city under my supervision!" protested Lando.

"I am altering the deal," Vader said simply. "Pray I don't alter it any further."

Lando shot a brief, angry glare at Vader, but within a moment he ordered a group of stormtroopers to take the remaining prisoners away. Neither the princess nor the Wookiee made any sort of sound – even the protocol droid was silent. They all just stared at the frozen Han as they were led away, as if they still hadn't recovered from the shock.

"Follow me to my ship," Boba Fett ordered the remaining stormtroopers after Lando and the prisoners were gone. "Take Captain Solo with you – and handle him with care."

"Just a second, bounty hunter," Vader said suddenly, feeling yet another smile forming under his mask. "There's been an alteration in _your_ deal as well." With that, his hand stuck out and curled its fingers as the Force shot out and squeezed the bounty hunter's throat, as he had often done to his men when they gave a performance that was less than satisfactory. Boba gasped for air several times, but it was of no use. Within seconds, the bounty hunter fell down dead.

"All too easy," Vader murmured. He turned to the stormtroopers and gave the order he'd been waiting to give for three long years.

"Take Captain Solo to my ship."


	37. Chapter 37

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks to the readers! Again.

Chapter 37

_The Executor, Darth Vader's chamber_

Vader stormed into his chamber, wanting to scream in frustration, wanting to choke every one of his men for failing to recapture the Millennium Falcon, wanting especially to choke Calrissian for betraying him. He should have _known _that trusting the fool wouldn't end well. Perhaps if he hadn't been so distracted by Han, he would have sensed Lando's intentions . . . if this had actually been his intention the entire time.

Luke was gone. Worse than gone. Vader wished he could drive his son's devastated scream out of his mind. His child – the fruit of his marriage with Padme – detested him. The truth terrified the boy, made him wish for death, even. Mustafar had repeated itself. The Sith found that he was glad he had sliced Luke's hand off. The ungrateful, disrespectful boy deserved to be crippled.

Vader listened to his own mechanical breath in an attempt to calm himself as he stared at the one person he had successfully captured, the one member of his family still in his grasp, leaning against the wall, preserved indefinitely. In this condition, Han couldn't attempt escape, couldn't even call his friends for help. Lando and all others involved thought Boba Fett had taken him – Vader had even had a stormtrooper fly the bounty hunter's ship off-planet so they wouldn't suspect the truth. Most importantly, Vader could easily hide his son from Palpatine in this condition. Yes, this part was unquestionably a success.

If only Han didn't look so . . . horrible, if only he didn't look like he was in so much pain. Vader shook his head slightly, as if trying to drive the emotion out of his mind. This had been the best thing to do, the best way to ensure Han's protection. He may have suffered during the freezing, but now it was nothing more than a long sleep. Once the Empire was theirs, he would be released, and their family would finally be able to live in peace.

- - - - - - - - -

"_Daddy?"_

"_Han? Han, where are you?" Anakin crept through the complete blackness, unsure where he was going, following only his child's voice. _

"_Daddy . . . I'm cold."_

"_Well come here, Han, come to Daddy. I'll warm you up."_

"_I-I can't . . ." Han's voice was shaking, sounding on the verge of sobs._

"_All right, all right sweetheart, just hold on, I'm coming." Anakin broke into a run, still unable to see anything, still following only his son's voice. _

"_Daddy . . ." Han's voice was weakening, slowly fading. "D-D-Daddy . . ."_

"_Han, hold on!"_

_But he came too late. Han's body lay cold on the ground, his skin blue, his eyes blankly open, a victim of the devastating cold. _

"_HAN!!"_

Vader awoke suddenly, finding that he had fallen asleep sitting straight up, staring ahead at his frozen son, tinted red just like everything else in Vader's vision. The Sith remained still for several moments, the dream settling in his mind. When was the last time he had dreamed of his child, of his old self, of anything from his previous existence? He couldn't remember.

When was the last time he had dreamed of _anything?_

He rose and walked slowly toward the carbonite box, his hand reaching out to touch it even though it had no touch sensors. Ever-so-gradually, his finger rubbed against the carbonite, tracing his son's tormented face, unable to look away, the dream lingering in his head, his little boy's suffering almost breaking through his mind's barriers and becoming an actual image.

Suddenly he could stand it no longer. The motion of his fingers grew more and more rapid as they brushed Han's face. Within a few moments, his hand fluidly moved to the side of the box, flipping a switch, pressing a button, not caring about the consequences. He _couldn't _keep his son like this.

The light on the side of the box began pulsing as the carbonite glowed red. Han's frozen hands slowly returned to their natural color, taking several seconds to regain their ability to move in the tiniest increments. Vader instinctively held his arms out, preparing for the moment when his son's body would be free.

The moment came all of a sudden. Han's body fell out of carbonite and collapsed into Vader's arms, pressing his weight on his father. A few seconds passed before the young man took in a gasp of air and his body began shaking much like it had on the switchboard. Vader gripped Han's sides, seeing that his eyes were still closed.

"Relax," Vader ordered calmly. "You are free of the carbonite."

Han's eyes began to open, his blinks as slow as someone falling asleep, a brief look of panic crossing his face even though he was barely conscious.

"Relax," Vader repeated.

"I can't see . . ." Han mumbled.

"Blindness is a common symptom for those released from carbonite," said Vader, though he wasn't sure whether or not it was actually true. "Your eyesight will return."

"Wh-where am I?"

How was Vader supposed to answer that without making it sound like he was keeping Han prisoner. Even if he _was _keeping Han prisoner for now, it was for his own safety, but how could he make Han understand that? He couldn't outright tell Han the truth yet, he couldn't make _that_ mistake again . . .

"You are safe," the Sith finally said.

Another look of panic crossed Han's face, his eyes appearing more aware, as if he were only now recognizing the voice. "V-V-Vader . . ." he stuttered.

"Yes." Vader's artificial hands gripped Han's arms with a tightness that was probably painful.

"Y-you . . . you kidnapped me . . . didn't you . . .?"

Vader stared at his son, ignoring the pricks at his heart. "It is for your protection."

Even though he was blind, Han glared as best he could at the Sith. "Yeah? W-well whaddya care about my protection?"

"The bounty hunter is dead," Vader declared, "and your friends escaped."

"No thanks to _you_, I'm sure," Han snarled.

Vader shook his head slightly, wishing he still had the ability to sigh, realizing that there was no point in trying to reason with his son when he was recovering from the hibernation. There would be plenty of time to talk later.

"You need sleep," he said, carefully leading Han towards the bunk he never used. There was little point in sleeping in a bunk when most of his body was gone.

"Why?" Han said, though he was obviously fighting to stay awake. "So you can drug me up? So you can turn me over to Jabba _yourself?_"

"I have no interest in the Hutt's money," Vader truthfully said as he lay his resisting son down on the bunk. "Now sleep."

Han was breathing in pants, his eyes closing despite his best efforts to keep them open. "Y-you . . . you say that like you actually _expect _me to listen . . ."

"Sleep," Vader repeated in a rather stern voice, desperately trying to drive out memories of trying to get a five-year-old to go to bed.

Just as Vader predicted, Han's physical needs finally overcame his worries – his head fell back onto the pillow and he was sound asleep in only a few seconds, leaving his father to stare at him. He looked so . . . vulnerable, finally beginning to resemble the small child Vader knew him as, but with that idea came the realization that once Han recovered he would do all he could to escape. That couldn't be allowed, Vader decided. Han would have to remain vulnerable.


	38. Chapter 38

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks as always to the readers! Sorry I've been so absent lately - the adapter to my laptop stopped working and the battery only works for a short length of time before it needs to be recharged, so basically I can only write when my brother lets me borrow his adapter. Hopefully I'll be able to afford a new adapter soon - I've gotten a job substitute teaching for the school year, and that starts next month.

Chapter 38

Han could crawl now.

Though Anakin continued to repeat that notion in his head, though he saw the factuality of that statement right in front of him, it continued to amaze him. Wasn't it only a little while ago when he was just a tiny baby who could barely roll over?

Well he wasn't like that anymore. Now he was pushing himself across the carpeted floor, smiling so widely and babbling happily in baby language. It seemed like he was always smiling, like even the most insignificant events filled him with happiness, that being a baby meant everything was new and exciting.

"Come on, Han," Padme was saying, sitting on the floor across from Anakin with her arms open. "Come to Mommy!" Her blue skirt was pulled and wrinkled around her legs, though she didn't even notice – all her attention was directed on her baby. "Come to Mommy!"

Han merrily crawled in his mother's direction, his eyes wide with excitement, as if seeing his Mommy was a special occasion. Anakin could see the soles of his little socked feet, which kicked up every other second. Once the child was within reach of his mother, she scooped him into her arms, making him giggle loudly, once more bringing his smiling face into Anakin's view.

"There you are, my sweetie!" Padme said in a high, singsong voice. "You're getting big, aren't you? Aren't you?" She tickled the baby's stomach, making him laugh louder. "Ooooh, you're so big, so big, so big." After giving him a large kiss, she gently put him back on the floor and patted his back. "Come on, go to Daddy now."

Han immediately began crawling toward Anakin, still smiling. Although the child couldn't actually talk yet, it seemed obvious that he understood what his mother was telling him to do, which filled Anakin with wonder. He reached out his arms, a mirror image of his wife a few moments ago. "Come to Daddy!" he coaxed. "Come to Daddy, Han!"

Han continued babbling as he crawled closer and closer to his father. Anakin felt a great surge of fatherly pride at the thought that this baby looked at him with so much unyielding love, so much admiration, so much complete devotion. "Come to Daddy," he repeated. "Come on Han, come on."

The baby reached his destination, and the father scooped him into his arms with a loud, merry laugh. "Here's my baby, here's my baby, here's my baby!" He kissed him several times over, hearing Padme laugh in the distance, wanting this single moment to just last on and on.

- - - - - - - - -

Vader opened his eyes to the red-tinted world he had known for so many years, though his mind remained disoriented from the dream of regular colors, of regular life. He _never _dreamed about Padme anymore. _Never._ Why was the past deciding to haunt him now?

He shook his head, knowing that trying to fool himself was futile. The trigger for the dream was right in front of him, sleeping in the bunk his seat faced, still appearing so helpless.

Vader stood up and walked trance-like toward his son, who was curled up under the blankets Vader had draped over him, snoring gently, one of his bare feet sticking out from the covers. The Sith remembered looking down at Han like this many times before, always amazed by how innocent he could look in sleep. Even now, sleep exposed innocence. His hair still spread itself across the pillow like it did when he was a child; his arms gripped the pillow with the same tightness as he used to grip his toys.

But suddenly Han stirred, squeezing the pillow as if it could protect him. "No . . ." he muttered. "No . . . no . . . no . . . no . . ."

Vader continued staring, unable to look away much as he might like to.

"No . . ." Han repeated, now rolling from side to side, ". . . no . . . don't hurt her . . . don't her her . . . please . . ."

Vader felt something twist inside him, that long ago memory trying to break through the barriers in his mind no matter how fiercely he pushed it back. Inside his head, he heard his son's screams in that small, terrified voice, that voice that could reach out and tear at his heart, that young voice blending with the screams of his older self in the present.

"No . . . no . . . no . . . NO!!!!" Han's eyes suddenly popped open, as if awakened by his own screams. He breathed rapidly as his eyes shifted from side to side, though the lack of focus told Vader that his sight still hadn't returned.

Vader slowly reached out and his fingers brushed his son's chin so lightly that he didn't seem to notice. "Your mother was hurt in a terrifying incident, was she?"

Han took a large inhale. "H-how do you know that?"

"You talk in your sleep," Vader said simply.

"So I've heard," Han mumbled.

Vader once more brushed Han's chin with his finger, this time making him flinch. "What do you remember?" He didn't know how the question came out, yet once it was spoken, he realized that at least a small part of him was desperate to know what Han's impression of that day was.

"And why is that any of your business?" Han snorted, glaring upward even though he was blind. "Why am I even _talkin'_ to you?"

Vader rolled his eyes behind his mask. "If you don't wish to tell me, I can simply use the Force to look into your mind."

There was something like fright in Han's eyes, but it quickly turned into another glare.

"What about your _father?_" Vader continued. "What happened to him?"

"He's dead," Han mumbled. "They're both dead."

Vader leaned in closer to his son. "Did you actually _see _them die?"

"I saw my mom die," Han said in a voice close to a snap. "Not that it's got anything to do with_ you."_

Something reached further into Vader's heart, squeezing it like a fist. He suddenly felt ill, as if Padme's death had occurred only this minute. She was gone. It was a notion he had long struggled to drive away, long tried to forget . . . but once again it was staring him in the face, insulting him, humiliating him, showing him his true powerlessness against death.

"My dad killed her . . ." Han suddenly said, softly, hesitantly, as if only to himself.

Anger drove away the sorrow. How _dare_ his son _believe_ that! His metal hands clenched as his mind flew through possible responses that wouldn't give away the truth, and more importantly, wouldn't take _him _back to the day his life ended.

"Your memories must be faulty," he said, concentrating on bringing authority to his voice.

"No," Han choked out. "I couldn't make somethin' like _that _up."

"But your father no doubt loved your mother," Vader said matter-of-factly, leaning in at a proximity that would probably frighten Han if he weren't blind. "You and she must have been his entire world, weren't you? So how could he possibly kill her?"

Han swallowed. "I dunno . . . but he did . . ."

"You must _miss _him, don't you?" Vader persisted.

The young man said nothing, yet his sightless eyes were clouding up and he gave an unmistakable sniff, bringing Vader sudden hope that his son's affection might not be lost forever.

"You're hungry, aren't you?" said Vader. "I'll bring you something to eat."

- - - - - - -

A few minutes later, Vader was kneeling by the bunk, feeding Han spoonfuls of soup. Neither one spoke, but Han gave surprisingly little resistence to the Sith feeding him. Once again, biological needs were overcoming his rage. Vader felt himself relaxing. With time, his son would open up to him – he felt confident about that. And there would be plenty of time. Han would remain weak for however long it would be required to keep him here.

The drugs Vader put in his food would ensure that.


	39. Chapter 39

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks again to the reviewers!

Chapter 39

Han didn't know how long he had been Vader's prisoner. Weeks? Months? It seemed that the laws of time didn't apply here, that nothing ever changed in this chamber. Part of him clung to a feeble hope that his friends might come to rescue him . . . but sneaking into Vader's Star Destroyer might very well be a suicide mission for all of them. Besides, that was probably what Vader _wanted._

At least Leia and the others were safe . . . if Vader was telling the truth. He wished he could know for certain, but he had no energy to attempt escape – all he could do was wait. Wait and sleep. And sleep. And sleep. In fact, he spent nearly all his time sleeping. Was this normal recovery from carbon freezing? He couldn't say he knew any authorities on the subject, but always being sleepy was making him uncomfortable. He only left the bunk to use the refresher, always escorted by guards, and even the short walk to the refresher exhausted him.

Well, his sight was back, not that there was much to see here. Just the cramped, white bedchamber, the old-smelling blankets, the seat sticking out of the wall where Vader often sat, watching him for hours. Han tried not to think of the fact that the Sith seemed to enjoy watching him sleep.

Why _did_ Vader seem to have such an interest in him, anyway? He would have thought at first that Vader would want to use him as a means to find the other Rebels, but in all this time, he had never once interrogated him about the Rebellion. In fact, the subject of the war never came up when they talked. For some reason Han couldn't fathom, Vader was curious about his childhood, particularly his early life before his parents' deaths. What was especially odd was that he was especially sympathetic towards Han's father, always insisting that Padme's death couldn't possibly be his fault.

And there the Sith was now, the sound of his mechanical breath overtaking the room, his gloved hands carrying a tray of food – it must be dinnertime. Or maybe it was time for breakfast, or lunch, not that it really mattered.

"I have some food for you, Han," Vader said. That was something else that unnerved the pilot – the fact that Vader now called him "Han" instead of "Captain Solo." As if he thought they were friends now.

"I'm not hungry," Han mumbled.

"You should still eat," Vader replied. "It will help you recover your strength."

"Recover my strength?" Han spat. "_Recover_ my strength? I've been eatin' all this time and I haven't recovered _any_ strength!"

"All the more reason for you to _eat,"_ Vader said sternly.

Han rolled over to his side, facing the wall. "And will you _stop _pretending that you care about my well-being? I _know_ you're up to somethin' with all this."

Vader's heavy breathing seemed to grow louder, like how a regular person's breath might grow louder under agitation. "Would you prefer it the other way? Do you _want _to be kept in a cold cell with nothing but bread and water?"

Han wrapped the covers around him, his legs curling up, trying in vain to shake away the Sith's overwhelming presence, the horrible sound of that breathing – if that could even be _called_ breathing. By all laws of nature, that man should be dead, but he had cheated the grave through some horrifying process Han didn't want to imagine.

"You _know_ you don't want that, Han," Vader continued in his cold voice. "And you _know_ you want to eat."

Han didn't know why, but he found himself sitting back up, allowing Vader to place the tray in his lap, as if he had some sort of hypnotic power. "There, good," the Sith said in a slow, inviting manner. "Now try the meat – I'm sure you'll like it."

The food _did _look good – Han couldn't deny that. Nor could he deny the fact that he was growing hungrier by the second, as if merely looking at the food could influence his stomach. In only a moment, he picked up the fork and started eating.

"Yes, that's right," Vader said. "Don't forget the juice, it's perfect to wash down the food."

He was right – the meal was delicious. Han could almost forget that he was a prisoner when he was served such satisfying meals. He ate for several minutes until all that was left were a few crumbs.

"Good," said Vader as he took the tray, though Han barely heard it. His eyes were blinking slowly, his mind was growing foggy, his body was suddenly more exhausted than it had been before. Without even thinking, he lay back down, his head sinking into the pillow, feeling the gloved hand stroking his cheek but caring nothing about it.

"Yes . . ." Vader's voice was soothing, almost like a father speaking to a child. "Sleep well Han . . . sleep well . . ."

Something like an alarm went off in the back of Han's mind, struggling to tell him that this wasn't right, that he shouldn't go to sleep yet again, that something was happening to him, but the alarm got lost in the fog that was quickly overtaking his head.

"Sleep well, Han . . ." Vader repeated, his voice a lullaby, carrying Han to sweet slumber. His awareness was extinguished within moments, rendering him unable to hear the last word Vader spoke.

"Son . . ."

- - - - - - - - -

_Dagobah_

Back on this swamp planet. This horrible, stinky swamp planet. As he climbed out of his X-Wing, Luke didn't even know _why _he had come back here other than to fulfil a promise. A promise to people who had lied to him, yet here he was, as if he felt the need to prove that he was more honorable than they were.

He kicked the dirt, hearing R2's cheerful beeping as he loaded himself out of the X-Wing. "Stay with the ship," he grumbled, not bothering to look back at the droid, staring down at his feet, wishing he had an excuse to never see this wretched planet again. Perhaps if he had never come here in the first place, things would be different now.

Perhaps Han would still be alive . . .

"Returned, you have?"

Luke ground his teeth as the diminutive old Jedi Master limped toward him. "Yes," he said through a harsh breath, wanting more than anything to give Yoda a good punch.

"So long, you took." Yoda paused his limping to lean on his cane and cough heavily – he seemed much frailer than he had been the last time Luke saw him. The bags under his eyes appeared to be larger, leaving only tiny slits for him to see with. "So so long."

"It was only about two months," Luke mumbled.

Finally Yoda reached him, his presence intimidating even when he had to look up. "Long enough to _lose your focus_ it was," he scolded, tapping Luke's leg with his cane.

Suddenly, despite all his training, Luke felt his anger overcoming him, his lungs heaving as if trying to escape the pressure of his ribs, his eyes glaring, his mouth shaking. "Will you just _stop?_" he exclaimed. "I don't know why I even _came_ back!" Once he started talking, the words wouldn't stop exploding out of him. "Do you have _any _idea what I've been through?? It was . . . it was a complete _nightmare!_" He ripped the glove off his newly-acquired mechanical hand and held it up, showing Yoda the exposed circuits from where a blasterbolt had grazed it. "Look? See this? _This_ happened to me."

Yoda gazed emotionless at Luke's hand. "Rush out, you shouldn't have."

"_Rush_ out??" Luke exclaimed. "I _stayed _here much longer than I should have because of _you!!_" He felt his voice breaking, sobs wanting to push themselves out. "Han's dead. He's _dead_ . . . because of _you. _If I hadn't listened to you and left sooner, I would have been able to save him." With that, the sobs won and he sank to his knees, now close to Yoda's level.

The old Jedi Master sighed. "So sure you are?"

Luke sniffed loudly, wiping his nose with his artificial hand. "Jabba the Hutt got him . . ." he choked out. "We went to Tatooine to rescue him . . . but he wasn't _there_, he wasn't _anywhere_ . . . Jabba had already killed him . . ." He sobbed again, covering his eyes, not wanting to see Yoda's disapproving glare but nonetheless feeling it.

"Again, so sure you are?" Yoda said. "See his body, did you?"

Luke sniffed again. "N-no . . ."

"Then how is it that you _know?"_ said Yoda. "Such a problem you have, unable to accept things you cannot know, always insisting that know everything you do."

After another sniff, Luke peeked out between his fingers. "Are . . . are you saying Han's still alive?"

Yoda looked sternly up at him, as if merely asking that question was counter-productive to his Jedi training. "Saying you don't _know_, I am."

Luke merely stared through his fingers, the tiny glimmer of hope floating around in his brain but unable to settle. It took a great deal of effort to remove his hands, to once more become part of the outside world where Han was dead . . . lost . . . whatever the truth was, and he was again stuck on this planet.

Yoda sighed, leaning on his cane and shaking his head. "Come," he said, "your training, you must complete."


	40. Chapter 40

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks as always to the reviewers! Yay, forty chapters!

Chapter 40

"Han . . . Han . . . Wake up."

Han opened his eyes, his face drenched in sweat, the covers twisted around his body, and Vader staring down at him. "Wh-what?" he mumbled, not completely awake.

"You were having that dream again."

After panting a few times, Han wiped his forehead with his sleeve and gained the presence of mind to glare up at Vader. "You want me to sleep all the time, but you wake me up when I have that dream." He snorted. "Don't get comfy – I still ain't fooled."

That hand was on his head again, that hand that felt hard as metal even through the rough glove. Maybe it _was_ metal – that certainly wouldn't surprise Han. "Do you think it's pleasant to watch you when you have the dream?" the deep voice said with a mixture of harshness and pity, running his fingers through Han's hair. "You can talk about it."

Han swallowed, suddenly finding that his throat was dry. He dug his head into the pillow as if trying to hide in it. "There's nothin' to talk about . . ."

"You're lying," said Vader. "I know how your mother's . . . death haunts you even now." For some strange reason he seemed to struggle to utter the word _death. _"She must have been such a wonderful mother for you to miss her like this."

Han hissed. "For the two millionth time, what do _you_ care about that?? You didn't even fucking _know _her!"

He expected the Sith to switch the subject to his father as he so often did, but the only response was the continuous, unstoppable breathing. That breathing – it drove him crazy sometimes. Other people could express themselves through their breathing – through its tempo, its volume, or simply by stopping for a few seconds – but Vader was completely unreadable in that sense. Whatever he might be feeling (if he actually _felt_ anything at all), his breathing was always the same.

"I know how much you must have loved your mother . . ." Vader said softly. "The terrible, terrible loss it must have been . . ."

"That still don't make it your business," Han growled.

Vader finally removed his hand from Han's head, bringing him a slight bit of relief even though he knew the hand would probably touch him again in a few minutes' time. That hand was always touching him, pretending that it wanted to comfort him.

"It is my business if I decide it is," Vader said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

"I'll bet you say that to all your prisoners," Han muttered, pulling the blankets over his face.

"Are you hungry?" said Vader.

__

Why

did the Sith always think he was hungry? During the rare times when he wasn't sleeping, Vader wanted him to eat. Was he fattening him up or something? "No," he said from under the blankets. "In fact, I'm tired." This was actually the truth – although he had only been awake for a few seconds, his eyes were already drooping once more. 

The hand was back, feeling his head through the covers. "Then sleep," Vader said. "Let your mind escape those memories this time."

Han yawned, not even minding the hand, hardly aware of its presence, even soothed by it, coaxed deeper and deeper inside his head, on the way to comfortable sleep. His parents' images dancing in his head didn't frighten him now – they only lulled him further.

"Lord Vader," a voice said, sounding like it was coming from far away, not worth bothering with, "the Emperor wishes to speak with you."

"The Emperor can wait," that calm, deep voice said.

"But Lord Vader," the stranger's voice persisted, "it's about the second Death Star."

__

Second Death Star?

"All right," said Vader, "I'm coming."

Han's body wanted to sleep, sleep for hours, but his mind had suddenly been stimulated. It began as a twitch, a vague sensation that something was wrong, but it grew in its urgency. When he heard the door slide shut, it became an alarm.

__

Second Death Star . . .

They're building a second Death Star . . .

They're building a second Death Star!

Suddenly he sat up in bed, his eyes wide open, his throat dry, his breath hastening. However long it was taking him to recover from carbon freeze, whatever Vader was planning to do with him, however weak and tired he was, none of that mattered right now, not when the Empire had a second Death Star. Did the Rebellion know about it? There was know way of knowing, but Han quickly concluded that it didn't matter. Everything was clear now.

He had to warn the Rebellion.

He had to escape.

While huffing and puffing and pausing several times, he forced himself out of bed, not bothering to look for wherever Vader might have put his boots. He had no idea when he might fall asleep again – he couldn't waste any time, and if escaping barefoot was the price he would have to pay, then he'd go along with that.

He stumbled over to the door and pounded on it. "Hey," he called out to the guard who must be posted outside, "whoever's out there, I need to go to the refresher. Really badly!"

"I've been instructed not to move until Lord Vader returns," said a muffled-sounding voice, probably a stormtrooper.

"Well how'd ya think Vader would like it if I mess up his chamber?" Han retorted. "What if he were to _find out_ that you didn't let me use the refresher?"

Just as Han predicted, the door slid open after that. "All right," said the stormtrooper guard, "come on."

In that one moment of the guard's relaxation, Han kneed him in the stomach and grabbed his blaster rifle. In another moment, he shot the trooper dead.

One down, possibly hundreds to go. Han was panting – the rifle seemed unusually heavy and his eyes were still drooping. To his dismay, he realized that there was no possible way he could fight his way out of here in his current condition, not unless he could somehow slip by unnoticed.

Slip by unnoticed . . .

Of course, the solution was right in front of him. Didn't he and Luke disguise themselves as stormtroopers to get through the Death Star three years ago? It was perfect.

Well . . . perfect if he didn't fall asleep while removing the trooper's armor.

- - - - - - - - - -

Fortunately, Han managed to remain awake as he put on the stormtrooper's armor and stashed his body into a vent, though he did begin nodding a few times. Now he was making his way toward where he suspected the docking platform would be, his mind hazy, his walk dreamlike. Several times his head jolted upward as if he had been sleepwalking.

Vader probably knew he was missing by now – he had probably sent people out looking for him – but even that couldn't motivate him to move faster. He could hardly take notice what little he could see through the stormtrooper helmet – all he could really do was focus on one step at a time and hope he was going the right way.

Finally he reached the docking platform – but then an alarm went off, making him gulp.

"Attention," a booming voice announced through the speakers, "red alert. Prisoner escaping. No one is to leave until prisoner is accounted for."

All the stormtroopers around the docking platform immediately snapped to attention, ceasing their actions to stand in line, blasters in front of them, creating a barrier between themselves and the shuttles. Han had no choice but to stand in line with them, struggling to hold up the heavy blaster without falling over. He breathed heavily a few times, knowing he would have to act quickly, careful that he didn't portray any sort of warning to the other troopers.

Within a second, he ran.

"Hey you!" a voice called after him. "What do you think you're doing??"

There was no time to negociate – Han whirled around and shot the trooper calling him, which led to the other troopers retaliating with their own fire. Maybe it _wasn't _such a good idea to call attention to himself, but it was too late to think about that – he could only keep shooting and dodging as he backed towards the nearest Imperial shuttle.

He ducked into the shuttle as fast as was humanly possible, knowing he'd have only seconds before they locked everything down, hoping he'd be able to fly a ship in his condition. The cockpit was cramped and unfamiliar, but he strapped himself into the pilot's seat and frantically began working the controls.

The hatch was closing in front of him – he focused all his attention on the narrowing gap. Little further, little further, little further . . .

He made it, but with barely enough space to slip through without being crushed. Frantically he fiddled with the hyperdrive controls, remembering that Sullust had been the rendevous point where everyone was supposed to meet after escaping from Hoth. Of course, they had likely fled to another system by now, but Han had no way of knowing where that might be. Sullust was his best bet.

"C'mon, c'mon . . ." he muttered, silently cursing the shuttle's slow navacomputer. They would be after him soon, why wasn't that stupid computer working??

Just when he thought he heard other shuttles coming after him, the computer finally gave him the coordinates. He breathed a long sigh as he quickly punched the controls, turning the stars into those glorious streaks of light and sending him far away from Vader.

After panting for a few moments, regaining his momentum, he leaned back in his seat and immediately went to sleep.


	41. Chapter 41

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Hey all, thanks for the reviews! I'm hoping to get at least one more chapter before November, since it's NaNoWriMo time soon and I'll yet again be putting all my fics on hold during November. _Hopefully_ this fic will finally be finished before _next _year's NaNo.

Chapter 41

__

Sullust

The shuttle's automatic jolt out of hyperspace woke Han up. His stiff arm slowly reached back to rub his sore neck before he brought himself to open his eyes to a narrow view of stars and Rebel ships. He yawned, breathing in hot, stuffy air, growing aware of something heavy resting on his shoulders and a similar weight resting on his head.

Where was he? What was happening? His hand slowly reached up to his head, feeling something hard and unyielding.

Armor . . .

Stormtrooper armor!

The memories of his escape rushed back to him, along with the urgency of the warning he had to give the Rebellion. He instantly yanked off the helmet and slammed it down on the floor, inhaling the welcome fresh air. The Rebel ships outside looked like a gift sent by the gods . . . until he realized that he was flying towards them in an Imperial shuttle. _Shit._ He was practically inviting them to blow him to pieces.

"Attention, Imperial ship," a harsh, tough, female voice suddenly said through the ship's speakers, which unexpectedly made Han smile when he recognized it. "Identify yourself at once. I repeat, identify yourself at once or risk your destruction."

Han gave a silent laugh, feeling like he had woken out of a long nightmare and was finally back in the wonderful living world. "This is Captain Han Solo," he replied.

"_HAN??"_ There was a moment of silence – Han eagerly savored this rare moment when Leia was struck speechless. "Han . . ." she finally sputtered, "Han . . . is that really you??"

Han chuckled. "Hey sweetheart," he said, "miss me?"

- - - - - - - - - -

__

The Executor

Vader felt alone. Horribly, horribly alone. This was odd, since he was always alone – or so he wanted to think, yet he couldn't deny the reason for how he currently felt. He stared ahead at the empty bunk with the abandoned boots sitting beside it, the blankets still wrinkled from when Han slept there. Han, who despised his father just like Luke did, who had seized the first opportunity to get away – even drugging his food hadn't been enough to keep him here.

Was this to be a futile effort? Was he always destined to find his sons only to lose them again?

No . . . he couldn't think like that. The battle wasn't over yet. He would just have to try something else now. Somehow, he would get his children back and they would join him.

Or they would die.

- - - - - - - -

__

Sullust

"Han!" Leia cried as Han exited the shuttle, the stormtrooper armor discarded back in the cockpit. She was running up to him, her arms outstretched, smiling so widely that she almost looked like an excited child, though he was smiling the exact same way. They threw their arms around each other as soon as their bodies collided.

"Leia . . ." Han murmured, digging his nose into her hair. "Leia . . . Leia . . . Leia . . ." After a moment he pulled out of the embrace only long enough to take her face into his hands and kiss her lips, feeling like she was the bringer of life, the one who would set everything right.

A familiar roar interrupted the kiss, making Han laugh as he looked up and saw Chewie running up to them. [Cub! Cub! You're all right!] the Wookiee roared as he wrapped his big arms around the two of them.

"Yeah pal," said Han, stifling a yawn, "I'm fine . . . just a little tired."

Leia sniffed at him, wrinkling her nose. "You smell like you haven't changed clothes in two months."

"Oh?" said Han. "Is that how long it's been?"

"About that."

Chewie rubbed Han's head and said that he didn't care how his cub smelled, but Han could barely listen. He looked at Leia with bleary eyes. "Anyplace I can sit down?"

"Of course," said Leia, taking Han's hand and leading him away, never relaxing her grip.

Han was huffing loudly, struggling to utter every word. "Leia . . . I need to . . . tell you something . . ."

Leia turned around and looked at him. "What?"

[Cub, what's wrong?] Chewie asked worriedly, gripping Han's shoulders.

Han felt himself fading away into oblivion, his legs beginning to give way. "Second Death Star . . ." he mumbled, only half-aware. "They're . . . building . . . another . . . Death Star . . ."

With that, he collapsed into Chewie's arms and knew nothing more.

- - - - - - - -

When Han felt consciousness starting to return to him, he tried to extinguish it again. There had been far too much sleeping and waking up recently – why couldn't he just _stay _asleep? His body tensed up, his hands clutching the fresh-smelling pillow, knowing that Vader would be here soon, ready to caress his head with that awful hand and pretend that he cared about anything.

"Han? Han, are you awake?"

Wait . . . that wasn't Vader's voice. It took Han's groggy mind a few seconds to recognize the voice calling his name, and a few more seconds to remember that he had escaped Vader's clutches. His eyelids slowly peeled themselves open, gradually bringing an unfamiliar white room into his vision, along with the sight of Leia sitting on the edge of whatever bed in which he was lying.

"Feeling better?" Leia asked, smiling gently at him.

Han swallowed, realizing his throat was unbearably dry. "Can I have some water?" he choked out in a raspy voice.

"Of course," said Leia, quicky rising from the bed and heading towards the sink in the corner of the room, which gave Han enough time to notice that he was wearing a light blue hospital gown which smelled like a very strong soap.

Leia returned with his drink, letting him take a long gulp before she spoke. "Han . . . what happened to you? We thought you'd been taken to Jabba . . . but then you weren't there . . ."

"Vader took me," Han grumbled.

Leia's eyes grew wide. "Why? What did he want with you."

"No idea." Han took another long gulp of water, giving himself a few precious seconds where he could delay telling the story. "There was no more torture or anythin' like that – he just put me in a bed and kept me there. And fed me a lot."

Leia looked quizzically at him. "Did he do anything else?"

"How should I know?" said Han. "I was asleep most of the time . . . well . . . okay, he acted pretty weird . . . always talkin' about my family and stuff . . . but he never asked me anything about the Rebellion or anything like that . . ."

"Strange . . ." Leia muttered, shaking her head as she took Han's empty glass and put it on the table next to the bed. "Well . . . I guess _he_ must have done it to you . . . he must have put it in your food."

"What?"

Leia smiled awkwardly at him, as if trying to calm him before he got angry. "The medical droids found a large concentration of sleep-inducing drugs in your system."

"Sleep-inducing drugs?" Han rubbed his forehead, amazed at how wholly unsurprised he was. "Well _that_ explains a lot."

"I think . . . I _hope _the effect will wear off in a few days now that you're no longer taking them," said Leia. "But why would he drug you?"

"Ask me again when I'm more awake," Han said through a yawn, feeling his eyes closing yet again.

"Han, wait," said Leia, gently pushing his chin upward. "Before you go back to sleep, I need to ask you a few things."

Han forced his eyes to open, concentrating on resisting the pull, desperately hoping that this would wear off soon. "What?"

"Is it true? Is the Empire really building another Death Star?"

Han swallowed, his throat suddenly dry again even though he'd just had a drink. "I heard a soldier say somethin' about it to Vader . . . I dunno where it is or how close they are to finishing it or anything like that."

Leia face became hard and serious, her eyes narrowed. "Then we'll need to act as soon as possible. We should send spies to find out where it is . . . actually, that Imperial shuttle you escaped in might prove itself useful."

"So helpin' me get back to you wasn't useful enough?" Han said with a feeble chuckle.

Leia chuckled back before leaning over and kissing him, once more bringing serenity.

"Can I ask you somethin'? Han said after the kiss.

"Sure?"

Han gave his cocky grin as he pinched a corner of his hospital gown. "Were you watchin' when they changed me into this?"

_"Han!" _

Leia groaned, gently swatting his face, though she couldn't hide the grin that was forming.

"I'll take that as a yes," Han said in triumph, still smiling as he sank his head back into the pillow. The world was right again.


	42. Chapter 42

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Hey, thanks for the reviews again! This will probably be my last chapter for a while, since NaNoWriMo will take up my writing time in November. I hope you'll check back in December.

Chapter 42

"So was I an official casualty of war, or was I just missing in action?"

"I honestly don't know," said Leia, raising her eyebrow at Han. "Ask Mon Mothma or something."

Han grinned at her as he stuffed another forkful of meat into his mouth.

"You must be feeling better," said Leia, ruffling Han's hair, making it even scruffier than it was before.

Han's mouth was full, but he gave her a small nod. He had slept well the previous night and was now able to sit up without feeling dizzy. Though he was still tired and confined to the bed for most of the day, the sleepiness wasn't as intense as it had been before. He wasn't thrilled that the medical droids had told him he'd have to go through training exercises to get his strength back, though.

"Hey Han!"

"Buddy!"

Han's grin grew wider when he saw Biggs and Wedge entering the room. "Hey!" he exclaimed. "I was wonderin' what happened to you guys."

"_We _were wondering what happened to _you," _said Wedge. "We thought you were dead!"

"_I _didn't," said Biggs, slapping Han's shoulder. "I knew you'd get yourself out of whatever scrape you were in."

Han laughed for a moment, before realizing that someone was missing – someone he hadn't seen since saying goodbye on Hoth. "Hey, where's Luke?"

An awkward silence suddenly fell over the group.

"What?" Han said, trying to keep his eyes from widening.

"Han . . . Luke's not here," Leia finally said.

"Well then _where _is he?"

Leia raised her hands and pushed them downward in a calming gesture. "It's all right, he's not in any danger. He's gone to Dagobah to complete his training."

"Training? For _what?_"

"He wants to be a Jedi Knight," said Biggs.

"A _Jedi Knight?_" Han let his head slam back against the pillow. "I'm out of it for a little while and everyone gets delusions of grandeur!"

"Oh come on," said Leia, putting her hand on Han's shoulder. "It's not so bad."

"Not so bad?" Han growled. "Not so bad? The kid's throwin' his life away and it's not so bad?"

Biggs raised his eyebrows and wrinkled his mustache. "Sheesh Han, I know the Jedi are extinct and all, but if that's what Luke wants to do, it's his business."

Han ground his teeth. "You guys don't get it, do you? You don't even _know _the first damn thing about the Jedi, do you?"

But before he could complain any further, he was interrupted by a familiar droid entering the room.

"Oh, Captain Solo!" 3PO exclaimed in his irritating voice. "It is _so _good to see you functioning again. R2 and I were so worried about you – and poor Master Calrissian, he was _quite _beside himself with guilt."

"What, _Lando?"_ Han shouted, making Biggs and Wedge jump back. "What the hell is _Lando _doin' here?"

Wedge gulped. "He's kinda . . . joined the Rebellion."

"WHAT?" Han whipped his head around, glaring at Leia. "He stabbed us in the back and you let him join the Rebellion?"

Leia quickly took his hand in hers. "Han, it's all right, it really is. Lando actually ended up helping us escape Vader – and he tried very hard to save you as well."

Han snorted, pushing back the tray on his lap. "I'm full."

Leia sighed, taking the tray and shaking her head. "Would you like to talk to Lando about it? I'm sure he'd like to see you."

Han bit his tongue in an attempt to refrain from saying something he'd probably end up regretting.

"I'll go get him," said Wedge. He rushed out of the room before Han could protest.

The former smuggler groaned through his teeth and folded his arms in disgust. "Do I even _want _to know the details?"

"Yes," said Leia. "Just let him explain."

A few seconds later Lando appeared in the doorway, appearing quite different from when Han had last saw him. His eyelids were heavy, as if he hadn't been sleeping well, and his hair was slightly disheveled, as was his shirt. In fact, he looked like he hadn't been taking much care of himself at all.

"Hey Han," he said in an embarrassed tone, pronouncing Han's name wrong for the millionth time.

"Lando," was all Han could say in response, without any intonation, though his instincts were telling him to get out of bed and beat on Lando until he passed out.

Lando gulped, nervously running his hand through his hair. "Well . . . can I sit down without you killin' me?"

"Fortunately for you," said Han, "the sleeping drugs are still affectin' me." He sank down into the pillow, pulling the covers over his shoulder. "And fortunately for me, you walked in at naptime."

"Han!"

Han sighed, knowing there wouldn't be any way out with Leia present. "Fine."

Lando told him about the escape from Vader and the failed rescue attempt on Tatooine, never pausing for a long enough time to allow Han any input, not that Han wanted to say anything anyway. He couldn't think of anything to say. There was a weird emptiness in his head, as if his psyche could neither accept nor reject what Lando was saying.

"So . . ." Lando said when he finished, ". . . think you can maybe forgive me now?"

Without a word, Han sank back down under the covers, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at the gambler. "I dunno," he finally said, "let me sleep on it and then we'll see."

_Dagobah_

Luke awoke in a strangely content mood. He had dreamed about Han, which seemed to be a recurring instance lately. The dreams always showed both Han and Leia comfortable and safe. Now he even found that he could think about Han without sinking into depression. Did this mean that his friend was alive after all? Did he dare to hope?

After dressing and rolling up his pallet, he found that Yoda was still asleep, which had been occurring a lot in recent mornings. This was strange – the Jedi Master always used to get up before Luke, but now, Luke woke up every morning to find Yoda still sleeping. Today his breath was raspy, as if he were struggling, and he had the blankets wrapped so tightly around him that Luke could hardly see his face. Not wanting to disturb the old Jedi, Luke quietly made his way out of the hut to relieve himself and perhaps meditate on the dreams he'd been having.

Outside, the sun was having difficulty getting through the mist, as was the case most mornings on this Force-forsaken planet. Still, if Luke looked carefully enough he could see a faint circle of light, which brought him a strange sense of peace.

Just like those dreams . . .

Luke ran his teeth over his lip, recalling Yoda's words on the day he returned here as he watched some swamp creature stick its nose above the water before sinking back down again. He didn't know whether or not Han was alive, but what was he supposed to do with that lack of knowledge? Was he supposed to let it go and be apathetic? That seemed to be what Yoda had implied . . . but how could he ever will himself to be so cold?

His reverie was interrupted by a spasm of hacking coughs coming from Yoda's hut. Suddenly Luke felt panic as a wave of suffering entered his senses through the Force. Without any more thought about the dreams, he ran back to the Jedi Master's home.


	43. Chapter 43

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Hey all, thanks for reviewing! I would apologize for not updating this story in a while – but I'm not sorry I did NaNoWriMo. ;)

Chapter 43

"Yoda!"

Luke scrambled up to Yoda's bed, where the Jedi Master looked up at him with bleary eyes he could barely keep open. He coughed loudly for what seemed like several minutes before he finally gained the ability to speak.

"Luuuke . . ." he said, something like a smile crossing his face. "Breakfast . . ." He coughed again. ". . . breakfast, I would like."

Luke nodded rapidly. "All right, I'll make you something."

Luke fixed Yoda some porridge without really being aware of what he was doing. All his thoughts were on his master, attempting to convince himself that Yoda was merely not feeling well, and everything would pass in a little while and things would resume as usual. But once he reached Yoda's bed with the porridge, the Jedi Master's frail face made Luke feel his heart stop for a moment. Yoda opened his mouth, gesturing that he wanted to be fed.

As Luke slowly fed Yoda his breakfast, neither one spoke for many lingering minutes. With every spoonful of porridge, Luke studied Yoda's face, waiting for energy to return to it as if he thought the breakfast had some sort of magic healing power. He of course knew better than the think that, but he refused to let himself consider the other option, the logical one.

Finally Yoda looked up at him, twisting his mouth. "That face," he said softly. "Look I so old to your eyes?"

Luke quickly shook his head in denial. "No . . . no, of course not."

Yoda coughed gently. "I do . . ." He gave Luke a knowing stare. "Yes I do." His eyes lowered slightly. "Sick have I become. Old and weak." When Luke continued to express denial in his eyes, Yoda scrunched his mouth and gave a confident nod, almost returning to his old self. "When nine hundred years old _you _reach, look as good you will not." A wave of melancholy then seemed to overtake the Jedi Master's face – the brief spark of his old self was now gone. "Twilight is upon me . . ." he said, blinking heavily, ". . . and soon, night must fall. Soon will I rest . . . yes . . . forever sleep." He sighed in a strangely satisfied manner. "Earned it I have."

"Master Yoda, you can't die," Luke said simply, almost nonchalantly, for it was a ridiculous notion. He had lived nine hundred years, seen the rising and falling of so many generations – surely he could live much longer.

Yoda gave a noise that sounded like a mixture of a cough and a laugh. "Mmm, strong am I with the Force, but not that strong."

Luke felt a lump suddenly form in his throat. His breath shortened, but his face remained blank, something within him persisting in its claim that Yoda _couldn't _die. He put down the porridge bowl and gently pulled Yoda's blanket over his shoulders, tucking him in like a parent. Or rather, like a child pretending to be a parent.

"That is the way . . ." Yoda continued, looking up at nothing, ". . . the way of the Force . . ."

Luke's heartbeat quickened, making him feel like his heart wanted to crack into his ribs, suddenly and forcefully shoving the reality of the world at him. Something final was settling within him, the realization that his time with Yoda was waning fast, that whatever questions he had for the Jedi master had to be asked now or eternally left unanswered.

Two questions in particular hovered in his mind, both of which sickened him to think of actually having them answered, of having the truth stare blinding at him without any hope of the world being otherwise. For a few seconds he considered keeping both of them to himself and letting the truth remain unknown and keeping that little foolish hope alive.

"Yoda . . ." he began, keeping his focus on the old Jedi's weary eyes, struggling to utter every word, ". . . _is _Darth Vader my father?"

Yoda blinked slowly. "Told you, did he?" he slurred.

Luke nodded slowly, though he doubted Yoda could see it. Something was tightening up inside him, squeezing out all the hope that Vader might have been lying on that day. He ran his fingers over his artificial hand, feeling the unforgiving metal under his glove.

"Unexpected this is . . ." Yoda wheezed, not looking at Luke, ". . . and unfortunate."

Luke had to swallow several times before he could speak. "So . . . so he _is _my father?"

"Know the answer to that, you do," Yoda replied before breaking down in coughs.

Whatever was tightening up inside of Luke was now settling on his heart, trying to squeeze the very life out of him. _"No, I am your father" _– Vader's words repeated themselves over and over, as if trying to drive him to madness. His artificial hand suddenly felt cold against the stump that had once been a wrist.

"Another question you have," Yoda whispered. It was a statement, not a question.

Luke gulped. "Yoda . . . is Han really dead?" He regretted the question the instant he asked it, he felt his head tightening up around his skull.

Yoda seemed to laugh a tiny bit through his hoarse breathing. "Know that, you soon will. Return to the Rebels you must, and find out your answer you will."

Luke relaxed only slightly, feebly taking comfort from the idea that he could live in the delusion that Han might still be alive for a little while longer. It wasn't much comfort, though, especially not when Yoda's frail body was in front of him. The Jedi's eyes were slowly closing, a sight that brought Luke sudden desperation. Something cried out within him, screaming, _"No! No!"_

"What about my training?" he said in a small, timid voice. "You need to complete my training."

Yoda's eyes were mostly closed. "No more training do you require," he murmured.

"Then I am a Jedi." Luke uttered the words in a strangely sorrowful manner. His need for more training might have kept Yoda alive for a little while longer, but that too was a useless hope.

Yoda made that noise that sounded like both a cough and a laugh again. "Not yet . . ." he murmured. "One thing remains . . . Vader. You . . . must confront . . . Vader. Then . . . and only then . . . a Jedi will you be."

Luke sat in silence for several minutes, looking down at Yoda, watching him grow weaker by the second, wishing he were somewhere else, desperately wishing that he could flee somewhere far away. Yoda's eyes were closed again – for a few horrible moments Luke wondered if he was already dead.

But then the Jedi Master coughed again, struggling to open his eyes one last time. "Luuuuke . . ." he gasped, ". . . my time is nearly gone. Luke . . . do not underestimate the power of the Emperor . . . or suffer your father's fate you will."

_Suffer_ his father's fate. Why did Yoda have to include the word_ suffer?_ Surely Vader's hard heart meant he was incapable of suffering. Luke almost wish he_ could "_suffer" his father's fate if that meant he would be immune to all the suffering he had felt.

"Luke . . ." Yoda said again, his voice reduced to a whisper so soft that Luke had to strain to hear him, ". . . when gone am I, the last of the Jedi will you be." He gasped softly, using all his strength to look up. "Luke . . . the Force is strong in your family . . . pass on what you have learned . . ." His eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open for a few more seconds. "Luke . . . look out for . . . your . . . fam . . . i . . . ly . . ."

His head dropped back onto the pillow and within a second, he vanished, completely absorbed into the Force.

The great Master Yoda was dead.

_- - - - -_

Luke sat on a log, distraught, unable to pay any attention to R2 working on his X-Wing. His hands clasped together, his real hand squeezing his artificial one even though it wouldn't yield to his fingers. There were no tears – he had no energy for tears. He knew perfectly well that he shouldn't be doing this – he _should_ be returning to the Rebels, but the very thought of doing so made his stomach hurt.

He couldn't stand facing another death.

"Yoda will always be with you."

The voice was soft, distant – Luke thought it came from his imagination before he gained the small bit of strength necessary to look up and see Obi-Wan's ghostly form walking up to him. That ghost – that ghost he hadn't seen or heard since he last left this planet, before Vader's revelation, before Han's death, before everything, back when he was a different person who actually thought he could change things.

"Obi-Wan . . ." he whispered, feeling his body tense up when the ghost sat next to him, suddenly frustrated that Obi-Wan was dead and thus couldn't be harmed if Luke were to punch him. Not that Luke would actually attempt to punch him, but he couldn't stop himself from thinking about it. "Ben . . . why didn't you tell me the truth?" he forced himself to ask. "You told me Vader betrayed and murdered my father."

"Your father was a good friend," Obi-Wan declared. "The dark side took hold of him, and when that happened, the good man who was your father was destroyed. He ceased to be Anakin Skywalker and became Darth Vader. So what I told you was true – from a certain point of view."

"A certain point of view??" Luke exclaimed.

"Luke, you'll find that many of the truths we so desperately cling on depend greatly on our point of view." He gave Luke a serious look. "I first met your father when he was merely a child. He was already a great pilot, but the Force was unusually strong with him. I took it on myself to train him. I thought he would be the greatest of all Jedi, but I was wrong."

"There is still good in him," Luke blurted out. He wasn't sure why he said it or why he had even thought of saying it, but once that notion appeared in his mind, it took hold of him, feeling like a warm light.

Obi-Wan frowned in disapproval. "He's more machine now than man, twisted and evil."

Luke shook his head in desperation. "I can't do it, Ben."

"You cannot escape your destiny," Obi-Wan said firmly. "You must face Vader again."

"I can't kill my own father," Luke insisted, feeling like a child begging his parents not to make him do something.

Obi-Wan seemed to sigh even though he no longer needed to breathe. "Then the Emperor has already won."

Luke swallowed hard, staring at the ghost with wide eyes. "Yoda . . . he told me to watch out for my family. He's the only family I have."

"That isn't true," Obi-Wan said harshly, as if he believed that Vader didn't deserve to be called anyone's family. "When Yoda told you that, he was referring to others."

"Others?" Luke exclaimed, less surprised than he felt he should be. After all, Obi-Wan had already kept such a big secret from him – it didn't take much imagination to think that he would keep other secrets as well.

Obi-Wan seemed to sigh again, as if he felt defeated. "You have a twin sister," he said.

"No I don't."

"Yes you do." Obi-Wan looked into the young man's eyes. "To protect you from the Emperor, you were separated at birth and hidden away. The Emperor knew, as I did, that Anakin's offspring would be a threat to him." He suddenly turned his gaze away from Luke, as if hoping that Luke wouldn't read his face. "That is why your sister remains safely anonymous."

Suddenly a face came into Luke's head, a face he knew very well, the face of someone he had long sensed a connection with, though he hadn't known how to name that connection until now.

"Leia!" he shouted. "Leia's my sister!"

Obi-Wan appeared almost disappointed. "Your insight serves you well," was all he said.

Sister. Leia was his sister. Leia was his family. _Family_. The light within Luke was growing brighter, but there still remained a sense that his knowledge was incomplete.

"You said _others,"_ he said. "Who else is there?"

Obi-Wan said nothing, looking like he thought he had already said too much.

"Ben," Luke persisted, "please, I must know."

Finally the ghost complied, though he wouldn't look Luke in the eye. "A few years before you were born, your parents adopted a baby boy. He too was hidden away after your father's downfall. Although he is unable to use the Force, he might also be a threat to the Emperor."

Luke's eyes widened to their limit. "Who?"

Obi-Wan simply stared knowingly at Luke, expecting him to already know the answer.

After only a moment of thinking, Luke felt a smile form as his breath became slightly uneven. "It's Han, isn't it? Han's my adopted brother."

Obi-Wan nodded only slightly, as if disappointed that Luke now knew the truth. "Bury your feelings deep down," he said. "They do you credit, but they could also be made to serve the Emperor."

"And he's alive?" Luke asked quickly. "Han's alive, isn't he? Yoda told me to look out for both of them – that means he's alive, he _must _be alive."

Obi-Wan didn't answer, but he didn't need to answer – Luke could _feel _that he was right. Now he understood why Leia and Han had been the ones he felt that strange sort of bond with, why they were the ones he cared the most about, why he had been so desperate to save them. They were his family. His sister and brother. And his brother was alive, he was sure of it now. The light within him felt like it could extinguish all forms of darkness.

Perhaps it could even extinguish the darkness that surrounded his father.


	44. Chapter 44

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: I'm REALLY sorry I took so long with this update. I've been sick with swine flu and I basically spent a month just feeling lousy.

Chapter 44

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Sullust

"Leia!" Luke ran up to Leia and embraced her as if they had been apart for years instead of just a few weeks. He squeezed her tightly, unwilling to let go of her – of his _sister. Sister. _The word felt so good just to think about, but there was still a looming discomfort about it as well. How was he ever going to tell her the truth?

After Leia pulled out of the embrace, her smile faded briefly, seeming to sense that Luke had something troubling him. "Luke, is something wrong?"

"Ask me again later," Luke said quickly. "How are _you _doing?"

The smile returned, full of more life than Luke had seen on Leia's face since before they had lost Han. "Luke, Han's alive!" she exclaimed. "He was never given to Jabba – Vader took him prisoner instead, but then he managed to escape."

"Vader . . ." Luke whispered, that single word dampening the joy of the moment. A sudden bout of dizziness overcame him at the realization that Vader must know Han's identity.

"Yes," said Leia, seriousness overtaking her face again.

"Where is he?" Luke whispered.

"He's probably asleep, but you're welcome to see him," said Leia, gently putting her hand on his cheek. "Listen, Vader heavily drugged Han while keeping him prisoner, but fortunately, it doesn't look like the drugs will leave any lasting damage. He's still very tired, though."

Luke had to struggle to keep his hands from clenching into fists.

"Do you still want to see him?" Leia asked.

"Yes," Luke said without hesitation.

- - - - - - - -

The lights in Han's room were dimmed in order to let him rest more easily. He was curled up in the middle of the bed, sleeping. Luke probably would have liked to be able to talk to him, but the sound of Han's even breathing was enough to give him peace. Han was alive. His _brother _was alive.

He had a sister and a brother, both of whom were safe for the moment.

For the moment . . .

"No . . . no . . . don't hurt her . . ."

Han suddenly began twitching in his sleep, his head rocking from side to side. "No . . . no . . ." he repeated, ". . . please . . . don't . . ."

Luke quickly turned on the light, which revealed that Han's tightly closed eyes were emitting tears. "Han?" he said nervously. "Han? Are you all right?"

"No!" Han screamed. "No . . . don't hurt Mommy . . . stop . . . don't hurt Mommy . . ."

Mommy? Was Han possibly dreaming about his mother? About _Luke's_ mother? "Han?" Luke said again, putting his hand on Han's cheek. "Han, wake up! You're having a nightmare."

Han's eyes opened, unfocused at first. He panted for a few moments before he realized that he wasn't alone. "Luke?" he whispered in a raspy voice.

Luke smiled in relief. "Hi Han."

Han inhaled deeply through his nose. "What . . . what're you doin' back here?"

"I heard you were alive," Luke said with a swallow, hoping Han wouldn't press the matter. "Are you okay?"

Han breathed in again, seemingly trying to delay having to tell him. "Nightmare . . . that's all."

"What kind of nightmare?" Luke pressed, feeling his stomach twist.

Han sighed, scrunching his face in embarrassment. "You probably heard me screaming bloody murder, so you already know."

Luke nodded. "Something about your mother." Saying the word _mother _made his stomach feel like something was squeezing it to the point of destruction.

Han blinked several times before he could speak again. "Dunno why I've been havin' that dream so much lately. I mean, I've been havin' it ever since Mom died, but usually it's not _this _often."

_Mom died. _Those two words seemed to jump out of Han's sentence, which immediately caused Luke to question his sanity. After all, he had always known that his mother was dead . . . but then again, he had always known his father was dead as well. Perhaps all the secrets about his family had formed some subconscious hope that his mother might be alive, but no, that part of his family history was absolutely true_._

"So . . . . you dream about your mother's death?" he asked carefully.

Han was wiping sweat off his forehead as he nodded slowly. "Leia knows, Chewie knows, hell, even Vader knows, so you might as well know too."

"Vader?"

"Yeah." Han took another deep breath. "He probably got a lotta amusement from it. Maybe the drugs are makin' me have that dream, I dunno."

Luke slowly, gently sat down on the side of the bed. "How did your mother die?" As soon as he asked the question, he wanted to take it back, but it was too late. He remembered that the last time he asked how one of his parents died, he had been told a lie, but then again, he supposed he could trust Han to tell the truth better than Obi-Wan.

Han gulped at least three times before answering. "Dad killed her."

"What??" Luke wasn't surprised – he couldn't be surprised with the knowledge on who his father was – but the exclamation came anyway, perhaps because it was an expected response.

"Yeah." Han said in a weary voice. "I have no idea why . . . he always seemed to love her so much . . ."

Luke felt something pushing its way up his throat that he had to swallow back down. Vader was seduced by the dark side, Obi-Wan had said . . . but _how?_ What could possibly change a man so much that he would kill his own wife?

He looked down at his artificial hand covered with the black glove, the permanent reminder of what had happened to his father. Would Vader have killed him if he had gotten the chance? If he killed his own wife . . .

But then again, Vader had Han in his custody for a long time and had only drugged him, or at least that was the way Luke understood it.

"Han?" he asked suddenly

"Yeah?"

"I know he drugged you, but did Vader do anything else while you were his prisoner?"

Han groaned. "He didn't torture me or interrogate me if that's what you mean. But . . . he acted _really _weird."

"What do you mean?"

"Well . . ." Han seemed to fumble for the words. ". . . this is gonna sound insane, but he acted like he wanted to be friends."

It didn't sound at all insane to Luke, who was now absolutely convinced that Vader knew Han was his son.

"I mean, he talked to me all the time, called me by my first name." Han snorted. "Even woke me up when I had that nightmare. I'm tellin' ya, that guy may seem scary, but up close he's a real weirdo."

Han probably expected Luke to laugh or express some sort of disbelief, but he couldn't do anything of the sort. He couldn't even give a response – he could only look down at his artificial hand once more. Everything Vader did made sense to Luke while Han was left in the dark – he wasn't being fair to his brother if he kept him there.

"Han?" he said in a hesitant voice.

"What?" said Han, sounding like he couldn't believe Luke' s lack of reaction.

Luke fiddled with a fingertip on his glove. "I . . . have something to tell you . . . something a bit . . . shocking."

"Shocking?" said Han. "Go ahead, some shock might help wake me up from these drugs."

_Stay calm, _Luke reminded himself, though it did little good. Even when concentrating on his glove, he could sense Han's anger at Vader – and his anger at his father, though he was unaware that they were the same person.

"It's . . . it's about Vader," Luke stammered.

"Yeah?" said Han. "What about that nutcase?"

Luke looked up at his brother. "Han . . . Vader . . ." Something seemed to grab his throat, rendering him unable to finish his sentence.

"What?" Han said after Luke was silent for a minute or two. "Come on, spit it out."

"Han . . ." Without consciously deciding to do so, Luke yanked off his glove and held up his artificial hand, which still had exposed circuitry from when the blasterbolt grazed it. "Vader cut off my right hand."

For a moment Han clasped his mouth as if afraid that he would vomit. He blinked rapidly at the hand, making sure he was seeing correctly. He had to remove his fingers one-by-one from his mouth before he could speak.

"How . . . how'd that happen . . . damn . . . what the hell does it _feel _like?"

Luke scooted closer to his brother and began telling him the story in detail – except that he left out the detail about Vader being his father . . . and Han's father. All the while he felt like hitting himself for not having the courage to tell Han the full truth. He was no better than Obi-Wan.


	45. Chapter 45

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks as always for reading and reviewing! Wow, 45 chapters, this fic is on a roll.

Chapter 45

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The second Death Star

"What is thy bidding, my master?"

Vader was kneeling in perfect submission, effectively concealing his nervousness around his master. Ever since Han escaped, anger had clouded his mind. He killed his men far more often than he usually did, looked for any excuse to be alone, dreamed of his old life almost every night. He could almost feel his son mocking him, forsaking his own father.

Palpatine sat on his throne, one hand on each arm, unmoving. "Send the fleet over to the sanctuary moon. There it will stay until I give further orders."

"Yes, master." There were questions resting in Vader's mouth, but he knew better than to let any of them escape. So far Palpatine seemed unaware that Vader had kept Han prisoner, but any questions might arouse his suspicions.

"And now," Palpatine continued, "I sense that you wish to continue your search for young Skywalker."

Young Skywalker. Vader's biological son, the one who had abandoned him even more quickly than Han had. Why was he cursed with two ungrateful, unfaithful children?

"Be patient," said Palpatine. "Soon the Rebellion will be crushed and Skywalker will be one of us. All you have to do is wait until he arrives."

"_He _will come to _me?_"

Palpatine leaned back in his throne, a satisfied smile on his face. "I have foreseen it. His compassion for you will be his undoing."

Compassion? The boy had compassion for his father? It certainly hadn't seemed that way the last time Vader saw him. He hadn't sensed any compassion from his son, only shock and hatred. The stupid, ungrateful boy.

But he was still Padme's offspring. Padme was a part of him.

Padme . . .

No, he couldn't think about her anymore. She was an invasion in his mind that brought nothing but pain. If only he had the ability to completely remove her from his memory, like a droid. Once that thought entered his head, he wanted to harm himself. He, a Sith Lord, was envious of a mere droid? How pathetic was he? The return of his children had weakened him, softened him, made him vulnerable. If he was acting logically, he would have Han killed and focus only on turning Luke to the dark side.

Yes, that should be his focus.

His only focus.

- - - - - - -

__

Sullust

As the weeks passed, Han eventually recovered from his sickness. He was released from the sick bay and returned to a regular life, though he still took an occasional nap. This brought relief to Luke and Leia, but they both noticed that Han seemed to be quieter now – he often appeared deep in thought, unwilling to be disturbed, as if some heavy burden was on his mind, something he hadn't yet disclosed to them.

The Rebellion sent out several spies to find the location of the second Death Star, and in a short time, they succeeded in doing so. Now they were planning a final attack, an attack that would hopefully end the war, and Luke, Leia, and Han would all be fighting.

A few hours before the last meeting before the battle was supposed to take place, Luke found Han in the briefing room, sitting with his head propped on his hands, staring into space. His first thought was to let Han be, but he could sense an uneasiness coming off of his brother, perhaps a desire for someone to come sit with him.

"Hey," Luke said gently. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," said Han. "Just thinkin', that's all."

"About what?"

Han gave no answer – he only sighed.

Luke tilted his head towards the seat next to Han. "May I?"

"Sure," Han said gloomily. "This place is gonna be full of people in a few hours, anyway."

Luke sat down next to Han, slowly so as not to disturb him. "So . . . I heard they made you a general."

Han gave a humorless laugh. "Ha, that's no biggie – they just want someone who's flown that Imperial shuttle before. Or maybe it's their way of thankin' me for givin' them the shuttle in the first place. Either way, I sure as hell didn't ask for it."

Luke shrugged. "All right, if you say so."

They sat in silence for a minute or two, Han continuing to stare ahead at nothing. Without exactly deciding to do so, Luke found himself brushing Han's mind with the Force, picking up a single image of Darth Vader, of their _father, _which once again filled him with guilt. He hadn't yet gained the courage to tell either Leia or Han about their origin. Why was that? Perhaps he wanted to spare them the suffering he was going through, allow them to live in their delusions about their father. He felt especially protective of Han's images, since he actually remembered his father before he turned to the dark side.

"Why can't I figure that guy out?" Han muttered, perhaps accidentally, perhaps actually wanting Luke to hear him.

"What?" asked Luke.

Han sighed. "Vader. Can't get the guy off my mind for some stupid reason."

Luke knew the reason – boy did he _ever _know the reason, but once again he felt a barrier in his mind which prevented him from explaining it.

"He cut off your hand, he put me on a switchboard, but then he acted all hospitable when he had me prisoner." Han shook his head in frustration. "It don't make any sense."

"Don't forget, he also drugged you," Luke reminded him, though he was certain it was unnecessary for him to do so.

"Yeah, but _why?" _Han pinched his chin. "If he wanted to use me as bait, he would've let you guys know that he had me. If he wanted information, he would've interrogated me."

"Maybe he _did _interrogate you," Luke offered, though he didn't believe his own words. "Maybe the drugs just kept you from remembering it." He didn't know why he was saying these things – perhaps it was just to make Han feel better, or perhaps he was trying to convince _himself _that no, Vader didn't know Han was his son.

"Nah," said Han. "The drugs just made me weak and sleepy – they didn't do anything to my brain. I remember everything that happened there clearly."

Luke let a long sigh out, wishing he had the courage to tell his friends everything, wishing he had assurance that the truth would bring his siblings closer to him instead of push them away. He had fantasies about turning his father away from the dark side and introducing him to Leia and Han . . . but then what? Nothing ever followed. Whenever he tried to imagine what would happen next, his mind would draw a complete blank, as if the world would cease to exist after that.

He looked over at his brother, who was back to staring into space. "So . . ." he forced himself to say, "think we'll be able to destroy this Death Star too?"

"No," Han said in a halfway lighthearted tone, "but you know me, I'm the pessimist. You're the one who gives everyone hope, remember?"

Luke shrugged. "Hope alone doesn't win a battle . . . but it can help."

Han gave Luke a small smile that made him resemble his old self for a moment. "Well if your hope helps us win, drinks are on me."

Luke laughed gently, patting his brother on the shoulder, feeling a strong urge to tell him everything, let him know about their connection, but once again another force held him back. If only there was some way to tell him without letting him know who their father was . . . but no, even if there was, he couldn't go that route. Leia and Han both deserved to know the complete, absolute truth.

Yes, he would tell them the truth.

After the battle.


	46. Chapter 46

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 46

__

Endor

"Wonderful. We are now a part of the tribe."

The small furry creatures that 3PO called "Ewoks" immediately jumped up and cheered at the droid's announcement. Despite the fact that they had been preparing the visitors for dinner only hours before, they now gathered around to embrace the newcomers. Leia couldn't help laughing when Han picked one of them up and exclaimed, "Just what I've always wanted!" with a big smile on his face. She would be sure to tease him about it later.

With their new recruits, she was feeling much better about the battle tomorrow. The "Ewoks" might have appeared to be little furballs, but since they had managed to capture Luke, Han, and Chewie, they had already proven their capability. Besides, as Han was saying right now, short help was better than no help at all.

It was only out of the corner of her eye that she saw Luke walk out of the dwelling. At first she thought little of it – he was likely just getting some air – but then something told her to follow him. She suddenly . . . _felt _something, an incredible sense of melancholy, as if it were flowing off of Luke's soul and into her own. Bewildered, she followed, though she didn't have the slightest idea why she was doing so.

She found him on the wooden bridge that connected the trees, staring up at the night sky. "Luke?" she asked. "Are you all right?"

Luke took a deep breath, slowly turning around to face her. "Leia . . ." he whispered hesitantly, ". . . do you remember your mother? Your _real _mother?"

Did she? Leia suddenly felt taken aback. She couldn't remember ever being asked a question like that before. Did Bail and Breha ever tell her about her real parents? Once again, she couldn't remember them ever giving her any specific information.

Yet there was something inside her. She didn't know where it came from or even whether or not it was real . . . but there was _something._

"Just a little bit," she whispered, unsure if she was even telling the truth. "She died when I was very young."

"What do you remember?" Luke asked, staring into her eyes with the slightest hint of desperation, as if Leia's mother was important to him, which made her feel even more taken aback.

"She was . . . very beautiful . . . kind . . . but . . . sad." The words came out of Leia's mouth without her thinking of them. For a split second she thought about Han's family holo, though she had no idea why.

Luke suddenly appeared distraught, as if her words had devastated him. "I have no memory of my mother . . ." he said slowly. "I never knew her . . ."

Now Leia was more confused than ever. "Luke, just tell me. What's bothering you?"

Luke gave a large inhale. "I have to leave."

"What??"

Luke put his hand on her shoulder. "Vader is here, on this moon. He's seeking me out." He stared into her eyes, brushing his real hand through her hair. "He can _feel _when I'm nearby – that's why I have to leave. So long as I remain here, I'm a danger to the Alliance and their mission." His gaze seemed to shift to somewhere far away. "I have to face him."

"Why?"

Luke abruptly looked downward, giving off the image that his eyes were closed. "I wanted to wait until after the battle to tell you," he muttered, "but I might not get the chance for that . . . and you need to know . . ." He breathed rapidly, slowly looking up. "He's . . . my father."

For a moment Leia thought she hadn't heard him right. Then she thought he might be playing some sort of cruel joke. Then all she could do was stare at him, unsure exactly _what _she was feeling. Disgust? Horror? She looked at him with Vader's image in her mind, trying to connect the two. How could something so evil have fathered someone so compassionate? _How?_ The idea refused to settle in her mind. There had to be some sort of mistake, there _had _to.

Luke appeared even more uneasy than she was. "There's . . . there's more . . ." he whispered, gently taking her hand. "It won't be easy to hear, but you must listen." He looked at her with absolute seriousness, as if his next words meant the difference between life and death. "If I don't make it back, you're the only hope for the Alliance."

"Luke, don't talk that way," Leia sputtered. "You have a power I don't understand . . . I could never have it."

"You're wrong," said Luke, still looking at her with that complete seriousness. "You have that power too. In time, you'll learn to use it as I have." He squeezed her hand. "The Force is strong in my family . . . my father has it . . . I have it . . . and . . . my _sister _has it."

Leia felt her heart stop. Sister . . . sister . . . _sister?_

"Yes . . ." Luke continued in a soft, consoling voice, ". . . it's you, Leia."

Sister. She was Luke's sister. Luke was her brother. She should be doubled over in shock now, shouldn't she? Why _wasn't _she? It almost felt like she had been expecting something like this all along. There had always been _some _sort of connection between them – never a romantic connection, but something else, something in an entirely different category.

"I . . . I know," Leia breathed. "Somehow . . . I've always known."

But if Luke was her brother, that meant . . .

No . . . no, she couldn't think about that now.

She couldn't . . .

Luke swallowed loudly. "And . . . there's something else."

Something _else?_ What else could there _possibly _be?

Luke took a deep breath. "You need to protect everyone here . . . but you especially need to protect Han."

"What? Han? Why?" Little one-syllable words were all Leia could utter.

Luke took another deep breath. "We have an adopted brother . . . and I think Vader might know who he is."

__

"Han??"

"Yes," Luke said quickly. "Our parents adopted him a few years before we were born."

Leia grabbed a fold of skin from her leg and pinched down as hard as she could, but nothing came of it except pain. She was still standing on the bridge next to Luke – next to her _brother._ Dizziness swarmed into her head, blending all the revelations. Her brother. Her adopted brother. Her father . . . her _father._ She gripped the rail for support.

Luke gently touched her shoulder. "Are you all right?"

What a foolish question. She had just found out that Darth Vader was her father and he was asking if she was all right? "D-does . . ." she stammered, ". . . does Han know?"

"No," said Luke. "You will have to be the one to tell him. I must face our father."

"No!" Leia exclaimed, grabbing his arms. "Luke, run away. Far away. If he can feel your presence, then leave this place. I wish I could go with you."

Luke gave her a sad smile. "No you don't. You've always been strong."

Leia felt tears welling up. "But . . . why must you face him?"

Luke's face remained calm, but Leia could feel sorrow coming off of him somehow. Were her powers awakening? "Because I can reach him, Leia," her brother said. "I can turn him back to the good side. I have to try."

With that, the brother leaned over and kissed the sister's forehead, and in another moment he was gone, leaving her alone. Alone. She suddenly felt cold, stiff, unable to move, as if the entire world had stopped its activity, as if all of existence had decided to abandon her.

"Hey, what's goin' on?"

Han was here. Han, her _brother _Han. But he was adopted, adopted, adopted, at least _that _word could give her the tiniest bit of comfort. At least they weren't in a taboo relationship.

His family holo once more pushed itself into her mind, making her feel nauseous. Anakin and Padme, his father and mother, _her _father and mother. Anakin and Padme, _Vader _and Padme. That face smiling at his wife and son . . . _Vader's _face.

"Leia? You all right?"

She forced herself to turn around and face him. He was completely oblivious of the truth, completely immersed in whatever illusions he had. Why had Luke left her the burden of telling him the truth?

"Han . . ." Her voice came out in a whisper. "Han . . ."

"Yeah?" Han's eyes were full of concern. "What is it." He reached over and cupped his hand around her ear. "You can tell me."

Leia swallowed several times, looking into his beautiful hazel eyes, feeling like speaking was a sheer impossibility. How could she do this? How . . . how . . . _how?_

Perhaps he didn't _need _to know right now. Perhaps he could remain oblivious for a while longer . . . no, Luke had told her for a reason . . . it wasn't fair to leave Han out . . . they were family . . . _family._

"Han . . ." she whispered, wrapping her hand around his neck and summoning all her courage, ". . . I have something to tell you . . ."


	47. Chapter 47

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks for reviewing!

Chapter 47

Leia spoke.

She spoke some more.

She kept speaking, lingering at times, going off on tangents at others. All the time her gaze never moved from Han's face, which was turning increasingly pale, and his blinks seemed to be less and less frequent. She kept expecting him to fly into denial, to tell her to stop, to say _something,_ but he remained still and quiet, as if her story was slowly transforming him into a statue.

Finally she ran out of words, which was followed by complete silence. Han stared at her for perhaps five whole minutes, breathing loudly and rapidly, unable to move, looking like he was going into shock. For a moment Leia was worried that he would collapse, but once she put her hands on his shoulders, words finally escaped the barriers of his lips.

"Babies . . ." he gasped out, gripping his head. "Mom . . . had . . . babies . . . before she died . . . a boy . . ." He stared at Leia as if she were a stranger. " . . . and a girl . . ." His body sank down from under Leia's hands – for a split second she thought he had fainted, but it turned out that he had sat down on the rail, his arms and legs trembling.

"Babies . . ." Han repeated, his breath still loud and uneven, ". . . why didn't I remember it until now?"

"You were really young," Leia said feebly, sitting down next to him, grasping his shaking hand. "And . . . maybe your mind blocked part of that day from your memory . . . that can happen sometimes."

Han kept staring at her, looking almost afraid of her. Not of the memory, of _her._ She suddenly regretted telling him the truth. Would the truth mean the end of _them? _

"You're adopted," she said quickly, squeezing his hand and looking into his eyes. "Us . . . it's all right . . . I mean, we're not actually related."

Han's breath seemed to relax briefly. "Yeah . . ." he said. "Not related . . ."

He was silent again, once more staring at nothing, continuing to tremble. Leia gripped his shoulders, hoping she could steady him, but she knew that there wasn't much she could do. Han was alone with the revelation. So was she. So was Luke. Even if the truth joined them together, it still left them alone.

Alone . . .

"Dad . . ." Han pushed out in a weak voice. "Dad . . . Vader . . . Dad . . ."

Leia began rubbing his shoulders, not having the slightest idea what to say. Again his family holo flew into her mind. The mother, dead. The boy, grown. And the father . . . changed beyond all possible recognition. Even now she found it impossible to pair that face with the monster that was Darth Vader.

Han buried his face in his hands, sniffing a little. What was he thinking now? What was it like for him? It was different for her and Luke – they had never known their real father. But Han . . . Han _remembered _what Vader used to be like. What sort of torment was that?

"Th-that's why he kept me," Han said softly. "He knows who I am, doesn't he?" He slowly peeled his fingers away from his face, revealing his moist eyes. "He wanted his _son_ back . . . but he knew his _son_ wouldn't want to be with _him_." His voice grew progressively louder and angrier. "So he thought he'd keep his little _son_ locked away and drug him up. After all, he can't run off if he's asleep all the time, can he?" He lowered his eyebrows. "Well I managed it, _Dad." _

"Han . . . calm down," Leia said softly, though she knew those words would be useless.

He looked at her with his eyes wide and his breath still shaking. "And Luke went after him," he said in a hard voice. "So's Vader gonna drug the kid up too?"

"I don't think so," Leia said, unable to keep her voice from trembling. "I think he wants Luke for something . . . else." Why was this image entering her mind? Why was she seeing Luke standing between Vader and the Emperor, his face twisted in coldness, no longer resembling himself?

"He wants Luke to join him," Leia blurted out. "I think he'll try to turn Luke to the dark side."

Han swallowed, reaching over and pushing a strand of Leia's hair behind her ear. "He doesn't know _you're _his daughter, does he?"

"I don't think so."

"Good," said Han, suddenly standing up and walking further down the bridge.

Leia flew to her feet and hurried after him. "What are you doing??"

"I'm goin' after Luke," Han muttered.

"WHAT??" Leia shouted, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him around to face her.

"You heard me," said Han. "The kid's gonna need help. He doesn't know what he's up against."

Leia felt like her entire world had collapsed in front of her. "Vader cut off his hand," she said desperately. "I'm sure he has an idea of what he's up against."

"Well if he's serious about turnin' him away from the dark side – if it's even _possible_ – he's gonna need help." Han's eyes were burning. "I knew him before he went crazy – and he knew _me."_

"Han, you can't be . . ."

"I _am_ serious," Han interrupted.

"Then I'll come with you," Leia immediately responded.

"No," Han said firmly, looking into her eyes. "You need to lead the troops." He took out his blaster and handed it to her, giving her no room to protest. "Listen to me. Lead the attack. Take down the shield. You're more fit to lead this mission than I am anyway."

Leia's fingers curled around the blaster, squeezing the icy metal. "Han . . ." Her voice came out in the faintest of whispers. ". . . he'll kill you."

"No he won't," Han said gently. "He didn't do it before – he won't do it now."

"I wasn't talking about Vader." Leia blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears escape. "I was talking about the Emperor."

A wave of fear passed over Han's face, a realization of what he was walking towards. He swallowed audibly before speaking again. "Leia . . . I have to try."

The same words Luke had said only minutes ago. Leia's head was spinning, refusing to let the impact of all this in, only allowing those words to hit her, wrap her up in the knowledge that she was losing the two people who meant the most to her in the entire galaxy. She couldn't respond in any way when he kissed her lips and began walking off.

But he suddenly stopped, standing still for a couple of seconds before running back to Leia and throwing his arms around her. "Leia," he said desperately, "if we get out of this alive, will you marry me?"

"What??"

"I don't care if your parents adopted me," Han said quickly, grabbing her hands and dropping to one knee. "Please . . . marry me."

He looked like a child begging his mother for a toy – his mouth was trembling and his eyes were wider than she had ever seen them. But how was she ever supposed to answer? He was asking her to make a lifetime commitment when her entire world had been thrown into turmoil.

But somewhere in the depth of the chaos within her were words, words that surfaced out of her mouth, words that spoke the truth. Somehow, even now, she could tell that they were the truth.

"Yes . . . yes, I will."

Han flew to his feet and gave her a long, passionate kiss that neither one wanted to break. So, Leia thought, she was engaged, quite unexpectedly, without much time to think about it at all, and yet she felt no regret. She even felt a sense of reassurance that perhaps Han would fight more for life when he knew he had a marriage waiting for him.

Finally, all too soon, the kiss ended. Han gazed sadly at her for one last moment, then disappeared into the darkness, leaving Leia alone.

Leia ran her fingers over Han's blaster, Luke's words ringing in her head. _"You're the only hope for the Alliance."_

The only hope . . .

She stood up straight, gazing into the stars, knowing that she would perform her duty, just like she had always done.

Even if her brothers had vanished into the night.


	48. Chapter 48

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 48

"Luke! Luke!"

Luke's first instinct was to whirl around and embrace his brother, but he forced himself to keep walking. What was Han doing here? He couldn't be bothered to find out – he could only walk.

"Luke! C'mon kid, wait up!"

Luke started walking faster. He couldn't let Han be dragged into this . . . he couldn't . . .

Now Han was running, sure to catch up with him even if he walked at his fastest pace. Sure enough, there he was in a few seconds, out of breath, but keeping pace with Luke.

"Kid," he said between pants, "I'm comin' with you."

"Go back, Han," Luke said under his breath, forcing his eyes to look straight ahead and not at his brother.

"Did you hear me?" Han said with a hint of annoyance. "I'm comin' with you."

"No you're not," Luke insisted. "I have to do this alone – I can't risk your life too."

"You say that like you have a _choice, _kid."

Han's forceful tone finally drove Luke to look to the side and see that his older brother was grinning.

"Leia told me everything, kid," Han continued. "And I'm not about to let my little brother walk into a death trap alone."

Without meaning to, knowing he shouldn't, Luke began to smile. He should order Han to go back . . . but he knew his brother wouldn't listen to that anyway. Han wouldn't listen to anything once he'd made the decision to follow Luke into the "death trap." Eternally stubborn – Luke had to admit there were times when he admired Han for it.

He reached over and patted Han's shoulder. "All right. Come on, brother."

"Two Rebels have surrendered to us. Although they deny it, I believe there are more nearby, and I request to search the area further.. Only one weapon was found on either of them."

Vader stared hard at the two prisoners brought before him, barely paying attention to the lightsaber the officer was giving him. His sons stared back at him, the older one glaring, the younger one almost pleading, but it was apparent that they had both come willingly. At long last, he had them both.

"You have done well," he said to the officer. "Leave us."

The officer obeyed, leaving Vader alone with his children. He felt himself smiling underneath his mask. They were his now. His. All those years of thinking his children dead, the additional years of chasing his sons down – finally over.

"So you have come at last," he said, as if he had invited his sons over.

"What, were you expectin' us?" Han snapped. "You thought we were gonna just waltz in and let ourselves be captured?"

Vader stared at his oldest son. "You both _did_ exactly that," he said in a cold, finalizing voice.

"Yes Father, we did," Luke said quickly, as if trying to keep his brother from saying anything else.

"So, you have accepted the truth," Vader said, nodding slightly at his younger son.

"I've accepted the truth that you were once Anakin Skywalker, my father." Luke seemed to be staring into his father's eyes even though he couldn't see them.

Anakin Skywalker. Those two words seemed to pierce Vader's brain, making him again wish that he had remained deaf after Mustafar. "That name no longer has any meaning to me," he quickly snapped at his son, protecting himself from the memories associated with that name.

But the boy persisted. "It is the name of your true self – you've only forgotten it."

His determined stare was so reminiscent of Padme's that Vader momentarily felt sick. This was Padme's child – there could be absolutely no doubt. Trying to remove Padme from his head, Vader looked back at Han.

"Do _you _know the truth, Han?" the Sith asked, though he could sense that Han did.

"Yeah _Dad,_ I know the truth," Han said, looking up at his father with a cold sneer. "Nice suit. Did you get it before or after Mom dropped over dead?"

"You are _not _to mention her," Vader suddenly growled, leaning in on his older son.

"Why not, _Dad?_" Han persisted, leaning back slightly but not losing any of his anger. "Is it because you _killed _her?"

"I did _not!"_ Vader roared.

"Oh, so Mom just _happened _to drop over dead after you attacked her. Makes _perfect _sense. What kind of idiot do you think I . . ."

Without thought of any kind, Vader stuck out his hand and harnessed the Force around Han's neck, just as he often did with his men, just as he had done to his wife so long ago. Han gasped feebly for air, growing pale, the binders on his wrists preventing him from gripping his neck.

It was a pleasure to see.

"Stop it!" Luke suddenly cried pathetically. "Stop it, please!"

Vader released his older son, who fell to his knees, breathing frantically. After giving Han only a second to recover, the Sith grabbed his underarms and pulled him to his feet.

"As far as the Emperor is concerned, your brother is expendable," Vader said, looking at Luke. "It would be wise for you to obey him."

"You won't take us to him," Luke said softly. "I know you don't want to do this, Father." He gazed up at Vader, his eyes begging. "You kept Han hidden from the Emperor for months – you won't take him to his death now."

Vader turned around, unable to stand his son's pathetic face. "He has a use now. The Emperor might find him quite valuable."

Han was still gasping, but he managed so say in a weak voice, "You're not the dad I knew. What the hell happened?"

"Something you cannot possibly comprehend," Vader answered slowly. He turned around, avoiding Luke's staring eyes. "If you wish to blame anyone, you may blame your mother."

"Come on, Father," Luke still coaxed, though there was more desperation in his voice this time. "Please. I can feel the conflict within you. You can still turn away from this – I _know _you can."

He remembered Padme saying similar words such a long time ago. She too was foolish – his entire family was foolish – none of them could understand the thing that imprisoned his being, the thing he had willingly allowed to imprison his being.

"It is . . . too late for me," he said, unable to block the tiniest hint of sadness from his voice. "You don't know the power of the dark side."

"So _that's _your excuse for all this shit?" Han cracked. "You really expect me to believe you killed Mom because you didn't have a choice?"

"I did _not _kill her!" Vader still insisted, feeling his heart beating so hard that it seemed to want to punch a hole in his suit and leave him for dead. "Your mother betrayed me."

"Lemmie guess, she betrayed you cause she didn't wanna follow you to insanity, is that it?" Han sounded on the verge of laughing. "That's rich. Did she force you to torture your son too? How about druggin' your son up? Did she make you do that too?"

Vader pressed the button on the lightsaber in his hand, making a light green blade shoot out, just inches away from Han's face. "So, you have constructed a new lightsaber," he said to Luke, wrapping both his hands around the weapon. "Your skills are complete. The Emperor will be most pleased."

"You won't take us to him," Luke still insisted, like a child who thought repeating a statement enough times would make it true.

Vader signaled his soldiers, who immediately marched up to the prisoners, their blasters raised.

"The Emperor will decide your fate," Vader said coldly. _"He _is your master now."

A sudden wave of sadness flowed from Han's Force-signature. Not anger, sadness. The face that was glaring a moment before was now looking at him with almost the same sort of childlike desperation that Luke had.

"For a long time I thought my dad was dead," Han said. "I wish I still did."


	49. Chapter 49

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Hey, sorry I forgot to thank the reviewers in the last chapter. Anyway, thanks to all who reviewed both the last chapter and the chapter before that. ;)

Chapter 49

__

The Second Death Star

Han and Luke were put into the same cell on the second Death Star. It was bare except for two beds across from each other and an open toilet against the back wall. The lights were turned out a mere five minutes after they were thrown into the cell, leaving them with nothing to do except lie down on the beds and try to get some sleep.

Han lay wide awake for an unknown amount of time, staring up into the dark, feeling like that black, emotionless face was staring back down at him. Maybe it was. Maybe there were hidden cameras capturing his every movement for his _father _to see.

He was here willingly, he kept reminding himself . . . but just _why _was he here willingly? Was it guilt? Pity? Or was it just a mere sense of protectiveness for Luke that had nothing to do with Vader?

He should sleep . . . but he was afraid to sleep. The dream would come back – he could almost feel it sneaking up on him, waiting for him to fall asleep. Maybe it would be even worse this time – he might see his mother writhing away in death with Vader looking on. Vader, Anakin, the two faces alternated in his mind, slowly merging until he could hardly tell them apart.

"Han?"

His brother's voice momentarily surprised him – he would have thought Luke was asleep by now. "Yeah kid?"

"Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

Luke sighed loudly. "You know perfectly well what." He rolled over, making his bed creak. "How do you expect to help our father if you keep yelling at him?"

"What _else _was I supposed to do, kid?" Han rolled over to face his brother, though he couldn't see him in the complete blackness.

"He's our _father,_ Han," Luke said harshly.

"_And _he cut off your hand," Han snapped back.

"He took you in when you were a baby," Luke persisted. "Think about _that, _at least."

Those words silenced Han. It was Anakin who found him after his real mother died, Anakin who took him home and raised him as a son, Anakin who, for only five years, _was _his father. Something tightened in Han's throat, which still hurt from when his _father _choked him.

If Luke hadn't stopped him, would Vader have choked Han to death? Han shivered a little, remembering his mother gasping in Anakin's invisible grasp. So long ago, yet still so vivid in his mind – perhaps his strongest memory of his father, stronger than any games they played or conversations they shared. Nearly every other memory of his early childhood was like looking through a veil, but that day . . . he could still _feel _it, as if he had experienced it only a short time ago.

"Han?"

"Yeah kid?"

"What was she like?"

_She._ Luke didn't need to give any name or other sort of identification – just the pronoun was enough to understand who he was asking about.

"Well . . . where do I start?" Han said hesitantly, seeing his mother's face in his mind. "She had brown, curly hair, these beautiful brown eyes, this wide smile . . . Leia looks a bit like her."

"And?"

Han sighed, feeling a lump forming in his throat just from remembering. "Her voice was soft and gentle. She sang me to sleep almost every night. Like this." He hummed a few notes from Padme's lullaby. "Does it sound familiar, kid? I know Leia remembers it."

"A bit," said Luke, though he sounded unsure – perhaps he was only saying he remembered because he _wished _he could remember.

"Anyway," Han continued, "her name was Padme and she was a senator or somethin'. She worked a lot, but she always found time to be with me after she got home. We played games, talked about everything, I always felt safe with her . . . till she died, of course. And Dad . . . Vader – he _used _to be _crazy_ about her, kissed her all the time, always gushed about her." His hands clenched at the very thought. "But then he killed her."

"That must have been when the dark side overcame him," Luke said softly.

"Dark side my ass," Han snapped. "If you really believe _that _excuse, you're as stupid as he is."

"It isn't an excuse," Luke insisted. "The dark side is real. It whispers into people's ears before pulling them in, deeper and deeper until there's no way out."

"And yet you still think there's a way out for our dad?" It was a question, not a retort. It might have been a retort when Han thought of it, but when it came out it turned into a question.

Luke hesitated before speaking. "I have to . . ." he whispered.

Han swallowed something rather substantial that had materialized in his throat. Who was he really here for – his father or his brother? He looked in Luke's direction, trying to give his brother a comforting smile even though he knew Luke couldn't see it. It might have been awkward to think of Leia as his sister, but he had no problem thinking of Luke as his brother. In fact, he might have subconsciously thought of Luke as his brother all along.

"Hey Luke," he said in as comforting a voice as he could manage, "I've got a holo of the three of us – me and our parents. I'll show it to you if we live through this."

"We're not going to live through this," Luke said in a flat, serious manner.

"C'mon kid, don't talk like that."

"I _mean _it," Luke said in a finalizing way. "Look at where we are. The entire Alliance is out to destroy _this ship_ – which means they'll destroy us with it."

Han's stomach jumped. "Hey . . . we've escaped a Death Star before – we can do it again."

"Last time was different," Luke argued. "Last time there wasn't a fleet out to destroy the Death Star while we were on it. The Rebels don't even _know _we're here."

He seemed so resigned, so ready to accept his fate, not at all like the person he once was. Had learning about his parentage really changed him _that _much? Still, Han's innards were tingling at Luke's words. Was he right? Was this their last night alive? He tried not to think of that, but the more he tried _not _to, the more it seemed that Luke was right, that death was awaiting them both tomorrow. Biggs . . . Wedge . . . Lando . . . their _friends _would kill them.

And Leia and Chewie would help make it possible by taking down the shield.

"Well . . ." he said, forcing out a nervous laugh, ". . . then you'll get to meet Mom, right?"

Luke sighed. "If I do, she'll be disappointed if I failed to help her husband." Han heard Luke's body shift around a bit. "I need your help, Han. You _know _him."

"I knew what he _used _to be, kid." Han sneered even though Luke couldn't see him. "I _don't _know him now."

"The person you know is who he _really _is," Luke persisted. "That person is still there – we just need to remind him of it."

"You make it sound too easy, kid," Han grumbled. "Like all we gotta do is talk about how much he used to love me and Mom, and then he'll magically become Anakin again."

"We have to do _something."_ Luke spoke with the determination of a general rallying his troops for battle. Han imagined the kid was probably staring in his direction. "Please Han, help me."

Even in the dark, the kid was persistent – probably persistent to a fault, but persistent nonetheless. How could Han ever say no to that voice? "All right, kid," he said. "I'll help you. I'll even try not to scold him anymore – unless he deserves it."

"Han," Luke groaned.

"Hey," Han replied, "kids are always scoldin' their parents. Maybe some healthy scoldin' is what the guy needs."

Luke sighed. "Maybe," he said, though Han could imagine his little brother shaking his head in amusement.

There was quiet for a few minutes after that, during which Han desperately wished Luke would say something, or that he could think of something to say himself. In the silent darkness, Han could almost hear that breathing – that breathing that once irritated him when he was Vader's prisoner, the breathing that carried absolutely no hint of emotion.

How could such a thing have happened to his father?

"Try to sleep a little, Han," Luke suddenly said. "Don't worry – I'll wake you up if you have the nightmare."

Han groaned. "How'd you know I wasn't _already _sleepin'?"

"I could feel it," Luke said simply.

Han groaned again – the kid had been training to be a Jedi, all right. He remembered how his father used to be able to _feel _when he had a bad day. Anakin always tried to cheer his son up when he felt unpleasant moods coming off of him.

Finally Han closed his eyes, realizing for the first time how tired he was, but still seeing his parents inside his head. Padme's lullaby lingered in his mind, as if his mother was reaching out to him from wherever people went after they died, attempting to soothe her son. Han was certain that he couldn't be soothed, but nevertheless, he was asleep in a few minutes.


	50. Chapter 50

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks for all the reviews!

Chapter 50

Luke had never seen the Emperor in person before. He had seen holos and heard propaganda speeches, of course, but those had always seemed like they came from a distance, even after he joined the Rebellion. To Luke, Vader had always been the most important figure in the Empire, not the usually-hidden-away Emperor.

But now that he was standing in front of Palpatine, a chill seemed to wrap around his body. It wasn't the Emperor's disfigured face that shocked him – he had seen it countless times in the media, after all. No, it was something else, something that seemed to be emitting from Palpatine's _presence. _Luke glanced to the side and he could see that Han was shivering – he felt it too even though he wasn't Force-sensitive. The dark side was strong here, stronger than Luke had ever felt it before.

"Welcome, young Skywalker," the Emperor said in his growling voice. "I have been expecting you. You no longer need those." He waved his hand and used the Force to undo Luke's binders – but not Han's. He looked in Han's direction, barely moving his deformed head. "And . . . I see you have brought your older brother with you. How lovely." He rose from his throne and strode towards Luke. "I look forward to completing your training."

"You're gravely mistaken," Luke replied, concentrating on keeping every syllable steady and unemotional, though fear emitting from Han's Force-signature made that difficult.

"Oh no, young Skywalker," Palpatine said, "you will find that it is _you_ who are mistaken – about a _great many _things."

"Whatever it is you've got planned, he ain't gonna fall for it," Han said suddenly. "It'll be useless anyway, cause soon this station's gonna blow with all of us on it."

The Emperor looked at Han with amusement. "Oh? You refer to the imminent attack on your Rebel fleet?"

Luke lost momentary control of his concentration. Fear escaped, even panic.

"Oh yes," Palpatine continued. "I assure you, we are _quite _safe from your pitiful little Rebellion."

"Did ya say that the _first _time?" Han retorted. "We blew the last Death Star up, remember that? And we had _fewer _ships that time."

Palpatine gave a small, wicked snicker. "Vader has told me you are quite difficult to reason with. I see that he did not exaggerate. No matter. Soon you will _both _learn reason."

"Your overconfidence is your weakness," Luke replied, though it was getting harder by the second to maintain his unemotional demeanor. He glanced to the side, seeing that Han's face was covered in sweat.

"Your faith in your friends is yours," Palpatine scoffed back.

Han was grinding his teeth, his hands twitching in the binders. Luke had the feeling that if the former smuggler's hands were free, he would be flashing an obscene hand gesture at the Emperor.

"His lightsaber," Vader said, speaking for the first time since they had entered. He handed the precious weapon to Palpatine, who stroked it with satisfaction.

"Excellent craftsmanship," Palpatine said. "Your skills will be quite useful to the Empire." He strode back to his throne and sat down. "Why, if you cooperate, I might even consider letting your brother live."

A tremble escaped Luke's feigned control. Just a tremble, a slight twitch in his hands, but it was enough for the Emperor to notice.

"Oh yes," Palpatine said in his slow, enticing voice. "You care for your brother, don't you?"

"Don't listen to him, Luke," Han suddenly shouted. "Whatever he does to me, don't fall for it. We're all gonna die soon anyway."

Palpatine gave a low cackle, turning his full attention to Han. "I see you really _are _a slow learner." He leaned in closer to the pilot. "Perhaps a little _information _will help shed some light on the subject." A maniacal grin spread across his face. "It was _I _who allowed the Rebellion to know the location of the shield generator. Your friends on the Endor moon are walking right into a trap – an entire _legion _of my best troops are waiting for them. Oh . . ." His voice reeked of mock pity. ". . . I'm afraid the energy shield will be quite operational when your little fleet arrives."

Fear was pulsing rapidly off of Han's Force-signature, but it wasn't enough to silence him. "Oh yeah?" he said, though the bravado in his voice now sounded forced. "Well my fiancee can get her troops out of any trap you set."

"Fiancee?" Luke, Vader, and Palpatine all exclaimed at once.

The Emperor cackled again, this time with a hint of amusement. "So . . . you are engaged, are you? I'm _sure _young Skywalker will hate to tell the lucky woman that her promised is no longer around."

"You _wouldn't_ . . ." Luke's voice was hushed, a child's whisper.

"Of course," Palpatine continued as if Luke hadn't spoken, "there's a good chance that the lucky woman won't survive anyway."

"She will," Han said weakly, without any trace of bravado left. "She _has _to."

"Han," Luke whispered, "let it go. He's _trying _to upset us, remember that."

Luke's words silenced Han for the moment, but without his brother's voice, the twists in Luke's stomach became more prominent. Leia . . . his sister Leia . . . down on that moon, her troops outnumbered, a trap baited and set . . . and neither he nor Han could do anything to help her.

Maybe she was already dead.

With that thought, everything seemed to fade in front of Luke's eyes for a few lingering moments, as if he had fainted standing up. When the blackness cleared, his eyes focused on the first thing that came into his vision – his lightsaber resting on the throne's arm, right under Palpatine's hand.

"You _want _this . . . don't you?" Palpatine stroked the lightsaber again, as if daring Luke to come take it. "Go ahead," he said in a seductive whisper. "I am unarmed. Strike me down with all of your hatred and you can protect your Rebellion. Isn't that your _duty?"_

Luke breathed hard, seeing Leia in his head, struggling to free herself from the Imperials' grasp, watching helplessly as her troops were killed in front of her. The Force was telling him that the fleet had arrived now, and with that he saw Biggs, Wedge, Lando, and the other attackers being shot down with the Death Star safe from harm. Then he saw Palpatine ordering the completed Death Star to destroy countless planets.

Kill Palpatine. It was so simple a solution. _Wasn't _it his duty to protect the Rebellion to the best of his ability? If Palpatine were allowed to live, there was no telling how many lives would be lost at his command . . .

"Don't listen to him," Han repeated in a harsh whisper. "He's tryin' to trick you – don't fall for it."

Luke gulped, suddenly remembering Yoda's words. _"A Jedi uses the Force for knowledge and defense, NEVER for attack." _Never for attack. Jedi didn't attack. Jedi didn't kill unarmed enemies. He looked over at his brother, knowing fully-well that _Han_ would kill the Emperor without a second thought if he was able. In fact, he would consider killing the Emperor the _right _thing to do. So why was it different for Luke?

The dark side. Now Luke wished for a moment that he wasn't Force-sensitive, that he _could_ kill the Emperor without falling into the dark side's trap. If only he could give up the Force for just a few minutes . . .

"So you _don't _wish to kill me?" Palpatine breathed. "Too bad. You might have been able to stop me from doing _this._" A wicked, triumphant grin spread across his face. "Now witness the firepower of this fully armed and _operational _battle station." With that, he pressed a button on his throne's arm and spoke into it. "Fire at will."

Luke saw the blast only from a distance, but through the Force he could feel the death. He couldn't tell who it was, whether or not it was people close to him, but there was _death._ People had died. People whose lives could have been saved if Luke had acted only moments ago, but he had allowed them to die.

He might have even _caused _their deaths.

His head whirled around, clouding his mind. Hesitation had led to death; failure to kill had caused destruction, not redemption.

"And where shall we strike next?" Palpatine said in an amused voice. "Endor, perhaps?"

"Y-you . . .you can't destroy Endor – that's where your shield generator is."

Palpatine clasped his hands together. "Ah, but once your Rebellion is dealt with, there will be no _need _for the energy shield." His focus shifted to Han, a certain relish in his eyes. "A shame that your brother might lose his wife before they're even married."

"YOU BASTARD!" Han suddenly yelled. With a loud growl, he dashed unevenly up to the Emperor, paying no attention to the binders still on his wrists, probably not even thinking of what he would do when he reached him, driven forward only by pure rage.

But Palpatine was quick to react. He immediately rose to his feet and stuck out his hands – and in another moment blinding bursts of lightening shot out of them and struck Han, sending him tumbling down the steps and into a crumpled, unconscious heap on the floor.

"HAN!" Luke screamed, forgetting everything else and running up to his brother. He slid down next to Han's body and scooped his brother into his arms. "Han? . . . Han? . . . please Han, wake up . . ."

Han gave no response. His face was bruised in several places, including a large, swollen mark on his forehead. His clothes were ripped and there were burn marks on the exposed skin. He was breathing, but only faintly, and it seemed like several seconds went by without breath.

"No . . . no . . ." Luke whispered, grabbing Han's face and slapping his cheek, feebly hoping that would be enough to revive him. "Come on Han . . . you can make it . . ."

A cackle drifted up to Luke's ears. The cackle he had the chance to silence only minutes ago. He slowly looked up, seeing Palpatine standing triumphantly in front of his throne . . . and Vader standing next to him, looking at his sons without reaction, without emotion. Vader . . . he had watched Han – his _son_ – fall without doing anything. He had allowed it to happen – maybe even _wanted _it to happen.

A sudden rage built up inside Luke, directed not at the Emperor but at his father. His _father _– no, he wasn't worthy of that title. Why had Luke ever thought there might be good in him? No, he was a monster, there was no sense in even entertaining the idea that he was anything else. Only a monster could watch his son withering like this without doing anything.

Vader was a monster.

And monsters had to be eliminated.

Luke pushed himself to his feet and stormed back up to the Sith Lords, intent on finally destroying them.


	51. Chapter 51

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Thanks for reviewing as always!

Chapter 51

The blades clashed, again and again, their glow irritating Luke's eyes, allowing him only a vague view of his adversary behind them. They kept clashing in a slow, rhythmic manner – Luke hardly had to think of where to strike or block. The Force was guiding him, but it was also guiding Vader, as if it wished to lock them in eternal combat where neither would win or lose.

Yet Luke could also feel a strange sort of adrenaline. He almost _enjoyed _swinging his blade at his father, thinking every time that this might be the strike that brought him down. Though he failed with every attempt, that only made the rush _more _intense. Every failure motivated him to try harder.

Try harder . . . and not give up until Vader was dead.

The first thing Han was aware of was a headache that felt like something wanted to crack his skull open, followed by intense burns that penetrated his skin throughout his body. He remembered nothing for at least a minute, only being violently thrown down.

Then came the distant but unmistakable sound of lightsabers clashing. Once his ears had something to focus on, everything came back to him. Their capture, Palpatine's taunts, Palpatine attacking him. And now he heard lightsabers clashing, over and over and over. Did that mean . . .?

He forced his eyes open, seeing that his wrists were still bound and becoming aware that his hands now felt like they were being stung from the inside, but he couldn't let that stop him – he had to see what was going on. With great pain, he slowly rolled over onto his stomach, pushing himself up on his elbows, groaning with every interval of movement. Dragging himself along on his stomach, he crept on his elbows towards the glow of the lightsabers.

Something was happening, though he still couldn't tell exactly what it was – the blinding light of the sabers distorted his sight, as did the whirling in his brain. The burns in his torso seemed to burst with pain as his body scraped against the floor, but he bit his lip and forced himself to keep going.

Yes, Luke and Vader were fighting. Even though Luke had come here with the sole purpose of saving his father, now he was swinging his blade at his father, at _their _father, clearly intending to destroy him.

"Luke . . ." Han coughed out in a soft, raspy voice that made his throat hurt.

Luke of course gave no sign that he had heard his brother – he just kept lashing out at Vader. By now he had the Sith backing into a bridge across a deep shaft, going closer and closer to the wall, where he would have no escape.

Han crawled further, struggling just to breathe, feeling like the seconds decided to expand to hours just to tease him. "Luke . . ." he groaned again, but again his brother didn't hear him. How long had he been unconscious anyway? Something had obviously happened during the time when he was out – but just what was it?

He crawled at the pace of sap drizzling down a tree and sticking to everything. His forehead produced so much sweat that some of it dripped down his face, but he lacked the energy to wipe it off. What little energy he had was focused on getting closer to the battlers, though he hadn't the slightest idea what he would do when he reached them. It wasn't like he could stand up, or fight, or do much of anything. Yet still he crawled on.

Luke kept swinging his weapon at Vader, seeming to be in a blind rage. Vader now looked like he was struggling to block his son's lashes. All of a sudden, the Sith fell backward against the wall, which seemed to multiply Luke's energy. Again and again he swung.

Then came a particularly hard, fast swing. Han thought Vader would block it like he blocked all the others, but in half a second he was proven wrong. The blade came down through Vader's wrist, slicing his right hand off, just as he had done to Luke.

For a moment Han thought he would vomit. His head bowed over until his face was just a few inches from the floor as his insides swirled within him and climbed up his esophagus, yet nothing found its way out. He heard Palpatine cackle in the distance, and though he still felt nauseous, he ground his teeth and forced himself to look up.

"Good," Palpatine said, striding up to Luke and Vader and ignoring Han. "Very good, young Skywalker. I see you making a fine Sith."

"Luke!" Han called out again, this time loud enough for his brother to hear him. Luke looked up suddenly, staring in Han's direction, looking like he had just awakened from a vivid dream.

"Luke . . ." Han repeated, ". . . I know you don't wanna do this."

Luke panted, his stare darting from Han to the Emperor and back again.

"What happened to savin' Dad from the dark side?" Han gasped, hardly realizing what name he had used to label Vader. "Did you forget about that?"

Luke blinked repeatedly, now staring at Han and no one else. His mouth moved slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but only silence followed.

Something compelled Han to keep talking – but not to Luke. With great pain, he craned his neck to look at their father, who was crumpled up against the wall, the stump where his artificial hand once was exposing circuitry. "And _you," _Han croaked out, "what do _you _have to say for yourself? Is _this _how you honor Mom's memory?"

Even through the mask, Han could feel Vader's stare on him, but something was making him continue speaking. "You think she'd be happy to see you now?" As he spoke, memories seemed to jump into his head – memories he hadn't thought of in years. He remembered sitting on the sofa, feeling his mother's pregnant stomach. He remembered Anakin telling him about his dreams where Padme died in childbirth. He remembered Anakin's promise that he would prevent his dream from coming true.

They were flashes, flashes so vague that he questioned whether or not the memories actually happened, but they gave him momentum. "I remember what you used to be," he growled, finding that the pain of his burns was getting easier to ignore. "You've been tryin' to forget it all these years, haven't you?"

"Han," Luke whispered, "stop it."

"No I won't," Han said forcefully. "Seein' as how I'm currently the only sane person in this room, I'd say I'm the only one with any right to talk."

Palpatine cackled in amusement, as if Han were a small child who didn't know how to behave in the real world. "You are powerless, Solo. Luke's journey to the dark side is complete. He will take his father's place as my apprentice."

"No," came a small voice, so soft that Han took a moment to recognize it. He looked up, straining his neck, and there was Luke, who had thrown down his lightsaber. For a second there was uncertainty in his eyes, but then it was replaced by something else, a flame of determination. It seemed to Han like his little brother transformed from a boy into a man in just a few seconds.

"I'll never turn to the dark side," Luke declared, his voice more confident than Han had ever heard it. "You've failed, Your Highness. I am a Jedi – like my father before me."

At first Palpatine looked like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Then his scowl returned, the scowl that seemed to dominate his entire face. "So be it . . . _Jedi_." He strode over to Han, slowly raising his hands. "Pity, I was going to spare your brother."


	52. Chapter 52

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Hey, thanks for reviewing! Um, I have bad news - MY COMPUTER WON'T TURN ON! I can still write using a flash drive and my brother's computer, but he'll be taking online college courses this fall, so he'll need it more than I will. In other words, don't expect updates to be quick in the foreseeable future.

Chapter 52

Lightning shot out of Palpatine's fingers, and for a moment Han closed his eyes, bracing himself for death, hoping at least that Luke had been kicked back into sanity. He waited . . . one second . . . two seconds . . . then he heard a cry, and it wasn't his. He opened his eyes in time to see the Emperor's lightening throwing Luke back against the wall next to his brother.

Palpatine was smirking over them. "A noble endeavor, young Skywalker. Noble . . . but futile." With that, he shot lightening out of his hands again, this time striking Luke on purpose. After Luke screamed for a few seconds, Palpatine separated his hands, shooting one stream of lightening at Luke and one at Han. For several moments Han was aware of nothing, no thought, no feeling except pain, pain, pain.

The lightening stopped momentarily, most likely so the stings could grow. Han opened his eyes, seeing Luke crumpled up next to him, his face covered in burn marks.

"Han . . ." Luke gasped out in a raspy voice.

Han wanted to answer, give Luke some kind of comfort, but his mouth was completely dry. His skin felt like it wanted to tear apart and free itself from his bones. After only a moment his eyes had to close again – the outside world was stinging them.

The pain returned, penetrating his every cell, robbing him of every thought except _please, make it stop, please, make it stop!_ He couldn't tell if he was crying out or not, couldn't tell what was happening to Luke, could only hope that death would come soon and remove him from this agony.

"Father! Please!"

Those two words somehow made it to Han's ears. Though it took his brain several seconds to comprehend them, he finally realized that Luke was calling out to Vader for help. Great. Just great. They were inches away from death and the kid still clung to the feeble hope that their father would save them.

That was all Han could think of before the pain engulfed his mind again. Luke's cries became just another background sound that didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. _Make it stop! Please, just let me die!_ Death, such a wonderful luxury. A descent into nothingness, an escape from this torment.

Then suddenly the pain stopped. Han's first thought was that he was finally dead, that all had ended at last . . . but no, his burns still stung even without jolts of new pain. He slowly opened his crusty eyes, blinking a few times to sort out the blurs . . . and then he saw the most extraordinary sight.

Vader, carrying the Emperor with his one remaining hand, lifting him nearly six feet off the floor. Though Palpatine's lightening was shooting in all directions, Vader held him steady, striding as he carried him. Quite a bit of the lightening seemed to be striking Vader, but he never once broke his step. Then, almost before Han was finished comprehending what was happening, Vader threw the Emperor into the shaft, where his body burst into flames.

"Father . . ." Luke gasped out. He began crawling painfully towards where Vader had just collapsed.

Han breathed through his mouth, swirling his tongue around in an attempt to moisten himself enough to talk. "Hey kid . . ." he managed to gasp, holding his bound hands up, ". . . do you mind . . .?"

Without a word, Luke raised his hand and unlocked Han's binders with the Force, but he turned back around before Han could thank him. Though he was obviously in a great deal of pain, he kept crawling up to Vader, who was leaning against the rail, as if clinging desperately to life. Once Luke reached his father, the Sith collapsed into his arms.

Han was still for several moments, trying to comprehend what he had just seen – and what he was seeing now. His body still burned – he doubted that he would be able to move – but Luke was calling to him.

"Han, can you come over here?"

Without hesitation, Han crawled towards his brother, grinding his teeth in an attempt to ignore the pain and nausea, feeling like he too could collapse at any second. Soon Vader's breathing entered his ears – though it wasn't the same sound he had heard so many times when he was a prisoner. It was small, raspy, like a sick person struggling for air.

Luke was holding the former Sith in his arms. Vader's head was lolling back – Han couldn't tell if he was conscious or not. That breath continued, irritating Han's ears even more than Vader's regular breathing . . . and still there was no expression in his mask.

"Han," Luke asked softly, "can you help me with him?"

Han didn't think he could stand up, yet alone walk, but Luke's small, desperate tone, the tone of a son who was losing his father, made him unable to say no.

"I'll try, kid."

They got on either side of their father, each one lending a shoulder for him to lean on. With Vader's weight and hard armor resting on Han's shoulder, Han thought for certain that he would end up breaking a few bones, but he ground his teeth and swallowed any protests. Bit by bit, he and Luke managed to get Vader to his feet.

"Come on," Luke said. "We've gotta get out of here – Leia probably has the shield down by now."

It was a slow, slow trek down the levels of the Death Star. The brothers were half supporting, half carrying Vader, who hadn't spoken since he'd killed the Emperor. The place was shaking all around them, stormtroopers and officers were running this way and that, so desperate to get off the station that they didn't notice their leader being carried around by two of their enemies. Step by laborous step, his burns still stinging, his shoulder feeling like it was lugging around a ton of weight, Han inched towards the shuttle bay.

When they finally reached a shuttle that seemed to be empty, Vader collapsed, bringing his sons down with him. The three of them were sprawled on the floor for a moment before Luke turned over to face his father.

"Luke . . ." Vader gasped out, ". . . help me take . . . this mask off . . ."

"But you'll die!" Luke exclaimed.

"Nothing . . . can stop that now. Just once . . . let me look at my sons with my own eyes . . ."

Luke's eyes widened in shock, but then a gradual acceptance came over them, which filled Han with nausea. Luke was going to do it. He was going to remove Vader's mask and sentence their father to death, giving up on any hope that they could save him. Slowly his hands moved forward, positioning themselves over the mask . . .

"No . . ." Han whispered. "Luke . . . NO!"

"What?" Luke looked like he had been jolted out of a dream.

"Don't do it!" Han said rapidly, reaching over and prying Luke's hand away. "I just got him back - I'm not losin' him again!"

"He's dying anyway," Luke protested.

"Then we should try to save him," Han said desperately. "Admiral Ackbar's ship - it has a medical bay and bacta tanks, doesn't it?"

"Yes . . . but . . ."

"But what?" Han glared at his brother. "We came here to save him, and that's just what I'm gonna do."

Finally Luke nodded. "You're right. Come on, let's get him out of here."


	53. Chapter 53

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: Hey, thanks for the reviews. Well, I still don't have a computer, but I DO have a flash drive. And . . . sorry this chapter's so short. I figured it was best to update when I could.

Chapter 53

Luke and Han barely noticed the Death Star exploding behind them as they escaped in the Imperial Shuttle they had taken. The only sound to be heard in the shuttle was Vader's weak, raspy breath. Neither of them could tell if their father knew what was happening, but they both feared that if they asked, he would protest his life being saved.

Han felt like he could sleep for days. His skin was still burning and the shoulder Vader had been leaning on felt dislocated. He found he had to concentrate on keeping his eyes open as he flew the shuttle. Just a little further, just a little longer . . .

"Do you think he can make it?" Luke whispered, keeping his eyes focused ahead, blinking rapidly.

Han couldn't answer.

To Admiral Ackbar's credit, he didn't start yelling at Luke and Han when they appeared on his ship supporting Vader's limp body. He merely stared at them, slack jawed, for what must have been a full minute at least, and then finally said, "Aren't you two supposed to be _down there?_" He pointed down, indicating the forest moon below them.

"We were captured by Imperials," Luke quickly said, acting as though it wasn't at all unusual for Vader to be leaning on his shoulder. "They took us aboard the Death Star, but we managed to escape and capture Darth Vader while we were at it."

Admiral Ackbar's jaw hung slack for a couple more seconds before he could speak again. "And . . . the Emperor?"

"Dead," said Luke. "But Vader is in urgent need of medical attention."

"Vader?" Ackbar exclaimed. "But he's . . ."

"A prisoner of war," Luke interrupted, "which means that he is entitled to medical care."

Ackbar opened his mouth again, as if trying to find an argument, but then seemed to realize that he had to abide by their ethics, for he shut his mouth again and nodded.

"Well c'mon!" Han shouted. "Ya think it's easy to carry this guy?"

"All _right,_" said Ackbar. "I'll call the medical droids."

It took too long to call the medical droids for Han's comfort. More than once Vader nearly slid of his and Luke's arms. Probably it was only a few minutes before the medical droids arrived and took Vader away on a stretcher, but it felt much longer.

"So Dad's a prisoner of war now?" Han whispered out of the corner of his mouth as Vader's stretcher floated away.

"It was the only thing I could think of," Luke whispered back.

"You boys look like you could use some sleep," Admiral Ackbar said after Vader was gone. "The droids will give you a quick examination, and then you can use the cabins."

"Thank you," Han grumbled.

"Han . . . Han . . . come on, wake up."

Han didn't know how long he'd been sleeping - he only knew that it wasn't long enough. He longed to sink back into darkness, his consciousness kept fighting against Luke's voice, longing to sink back down . . . down . . . down . . .

"Han, Leia's on the comm and she wants to talk to you."

Leia . . . one of the few things worth waking up for. Han slowly forced his eyes open, blinking Luke's face into view.

"Leia's on the comm?" he muttered sleepily.

"Yeah," said Luke, "c'mon, get up!"

"Fine, fine," grumbled Han. "Don't wanna keep Her Highness waiting."

Leia's hologram looked far more relaxed than Han had seen her recently. Her face sported one of the widest smiles Han had ever seen. She was wearing the dress that the Ewoks had given her, but there was a bandage wrapped around her left arm.

"Did you get shot?" Han exclaimed.

Leia shrugged, glancing down at her injured arm. "It's not bad." Seeming eager to change the subject, she added, "Han, you should have seen it - the Ewoks were amazing! I know, they didn't seem like much, but they ended up being our secret weapon. The stormtroopers didn't know what hit them."

"Uh . . . yeah," Han replied, finding himself unable to imagine the Ewoks beating up stormtroopers, but then having to admit that they _did_ capture him for dinner. "So . . . did Luke tell you about Dad?"

Leia's smile faded. "Yes he did."

Han ran his teeth over his bottom lip, waiting for Leia to continue before he ended up saying something he would regret. He waited a second, then another second, then another second . . . then he realized that Leia wasn't going to say anything until he did.

"Leia . . . he saved our lives." It sounded feeble as it came out of his mouth, as if he knew that Leia wouldn't consider that enough to make up for all the things Vader had done.

"I know," was all Leia said. She breathed for a moment, glancing downward, as if pondering whether or not to say what she really felt, then looked back up and said, "Are _you_ all right?"

Han shrugged. "Well, you woke me up from a good sleep, but other than that, I'm fine."

"Well, you and Luke should come on down," Leia replied, her smile beginning to tug at her lips once more. "There's a party going on that you don't want to miss."

"Kay," said Han. "See you soon, sweetheart."


	54. Chapter 54

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

AN: As always, thanks for reviewing. Still no computer, so still infrequent updates.

Chapter 54

Once Han hung up, he found that anxiety had replaced his sleepiness. Even the prospect of a party couldn't remove the anxiety. He suddenly remembered that he hadn't asked Luke or Leia just how their father was doing. Well . . . Luke was right here . . . he could ask now . . . but somehow he felt something blocking him from doing so.

"Do you want to see Father before we go to the party?" Luke suddenly asked, as though reading Han's mind (though Han wouldn't have outruled that possibility).

Han gave a long exhale that drained his lungs of all air. "Sure, why not?"

Without another word, Luke led Han to the bacta tanks in the ship's medical bay. They passed tanks occupied by wounded Rebels, some of whom Han knew, but he barely gave them a glance. The fact that they were in batca tanks meant they would probably recover, which was enough to ease Han's conscience as they made their way to the tank at the very back.

His first thought upon seeing the inhabitant in the bacta tank was _no._ Whoever this person was, it was _not _the father he remembered, nor was it the dangerous Sith they fought. It was . . . who _was_ it? The man suspended in the tank had no arms and no legs - just four stumps dangling pathetically in the bacta. His completely bald head bobbed limply and his chest was encased in some sort of device Han didn't recognize - he guessed it was to support his damaged lungs.

The head bobbed up, only slightly, only enough for Han to see his scarred forehead and closed eyes, but with that little sight, Han momentarily lost his breath. Stretched over the man's right eye, barely visible now, was the scar. The scar Han used to run his finger down when his hand was smaller. Up and down, up and down, grinning at his father, who always grinned back, despite the fact that he had recieved the scar in a painful battle. Suddenly Han imagined himself sitting in his father's lap, playing with his shirt, feeling the gloved, hard hand running down his back.

He pressed his hand against the cold glass, his eyes moistening up, causing Vader . . . no, Anakin to blur in front of him.

"Dad . . ." he whispered.

_Endor_

Han wandered somewhat aimlessly through the bonfires, the dancing Ewoks and Rebels, and even the tables of food. People watching might have assumed he was looking for someone, which he was, but in truth, part of him was still in Ackbar's ship, watching his father in the bacta tank.

[Han!]

No sooner had Han heard the roar than Chewie came running up to him and smuthered him in a hug - and Han actually hugged him back. He hardly even noticed the pain the Wookiee was inflicting on his ribs.

"I'm fine Chewie, I'm fine," he responded to Chewie's several inquiries over how he was. "Where're the others?"

Chewie took Han's hand and led him to an especially crowded bonfire where Han immediately picked out 3PO dancing with one of the Ewoks, another Ewok rapping sticks on a bunch of stormtrooper helmets as if they were drums, and several other Ewoks chanting something that was probably holy in their language. The overall strangeness of the scene might have caused Han to laugh if his mind weren't so occupied.

"Hey Han!"

Biggs, Wedge, and Lando all pushed their way through the crowd to hug Han - at the same time. For a few seconds he wasn't quite sure which arms belonged to whom, nor was he sure exactly who he himself was hugging. When the hug-fest calmed a little, that person turned out to be Biggs.

"So you saved my life again," Biggs said with his big grin.

"No actually, I didn't," said Han.

Biggs's mustache twitched, as if he suspected that Han was playing a joke. "C'mon, you were leading the guys who took down the shield, weren't you?"

"Actually, Leia was," said Han. "I was bein' held captive on the Death Star."

"A prisoner?" Biggs exclaimed.

_"Again?"_ Wedge exclaimed.

"Long story," Han said before any of them could ask how he ended up a prisoner. He quickly turned to face Lando. "So how did the Falcon fare out?"

"Like a dream," said Lando. "She only lost her sensor dish."

"WHAT?"

Lando showed his palms in a gesture meant to calm people down. "Hey, hey, she got through, her sensor dish can be replaced."

"Well you promised _not a scratch!"_

Lando gulped. "Uh . . . hey look, there's Leia!" he said suddenly, pointing over past Han's shoulder.

Lando's attempt to distract Han worked - he immediately left the group of men and dashed over to Leia, who was still wearing that same dark gold dress. Once he was within arm's reach of her, he threw his arms around her, squeezing her close to him in an embrace that seemed to just last and last before Leia gently pulled herself back.

"We did it, Han," she murmured.

Han grimaced as a long sigh emitted from between his teeth. "I didn't do anything. _You _did it. _Lando_ did it. And . . . and _Dad _did it."

Leia's eyebrows lowered as if Han had committed some grave offense. "So he's your father now?" she said in a voice that sounded like it was _trying _to be free of accusation.

"He's _been_ my father," Han automatically said. "And he's been _your _father too."

For a moment Leia seemed too shocked to speak. Her eyes widened, then they gradually became regular size as her breath quickened. "Han . . ." she whispered, ". . . he _tortured_ you."

"I know, I know," Han quickly replied, squeezing her shoulder. "But he wasn't himself then."

"What?"

"Look, do ya think this is easy for _me?_" Han exclaimed. "It ain't, believe me, it ain't, but he saved our _lives, all_ our lives."

Leia looked down and swallowed.

"Look, maybe you should go see him in Ackbar's bacta tank," Han said with another sigh.

"Why would I want to do that?" Leia said, a definite glare in her face now.

Han sighed once again, trying not to think of his fiancee as stubborn - but then again, she _was _stubborn, that was one of the things he loved about her . . . but couldn't she be a little _less _stubborn right now?

"It might help," he said. "Seein' him . . ."

"No it won't," Leia declared, folding her arms.

Now Han grabbed both her shoulders. "Leia," he said firmly, "he doesn't have any limbs."

"What?"

"He's got no limbs," Han repeated. "Both his arms and both his legs were artificial. And . . . he's deaf."

"Deaf?" Leia exclaimed. "That's ridiculous - he heard us perfectly on Bespin."

"That's cause his helmet transmitted sound waves into his brain or somethin'. Without it he's deaf."

Leia stood silent for what felt like several minutes, alternatively looking at Han and looking at her sandaled feet. "I'll . . . think about it," she finally said.

Han suddenly felt uplifted. His hands ran down Leia's body until he was gripping her arms. "Dance with me," he murmured.

Within seconds, they were swaying in time to the Ewoks' music, their arms wrapped around each other, neither one thinking about what might lie ahead.


	55. Chapter 55

AN: SO SO SO SORRY I've been so negligent of my fanfics. Getting hold of a computer got harder and harder and harder, but guess what, now I've FINALLY got a new computer!

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 55

The next morning, after some more coaxing from Han, Leia went to see Anakin in the bacta tank, accompanied by her brother and her fiance. She stared through the glass at the bobbing body, not speaking, her eyes glazed as if in a trance. Han gripped her upper arm, but she gave no sort of response. In fact, she didn't respond to anything - not Han squeezing her arm, not Luke touching her shoulder, not even the medical droid explaining what was wrong with Anakin in incredibly complex terms that Han couldn't understand.

Han felt like he should say something to at least snap her out of this silence . . . but what should he say? Should he reassure her that he was here for her? Should he try to convince her once again to open herself to their father? Should he try to perk her up somehow?

In the end he said nothing. He only kept hold of her arm.

. . . . . . . . .

_Two weeks later._

_"Anakin . . ."_

_Anakin turned around. The chancellor was striding up to him, his robes swirling around him, his handsome face smiling like a proud father. "Anakin . . . why have you turned away from me?" he said in his sweetest voice._

_"Master, what are you talking about? I would never turn away from you."_

_"Oh, but you have, Anakin. You disobeyed me. You shunned my teachings. I offered you the love of a father and you spat in my face."_

_"No . . . master . . . I didn't!"_

_He turned and ran . . . but then he found himself staring into a pair of beautiful brown eyes he knew so well._

_"Ani . . . you didn't save me."_

_"Padme . . . I tried . . . I tried."_

_"You didn't save me. You promised you would save me."_

_"Padme . . . please . . ."_

_"WHY DIDN'T YOU SAVE ME?"_

Awareness swam into Anakin's head, but it was awareness of nothing but silence. Cold, stone silence. A complete _nothing _silence. Silence and darkness. Swirling darkness. No . . . not darkness . . . colors . . . as if he were facing a bright light with his eyes closed.

_Were _his eyes closed?

Yes . . . they were. He tried to open them only to find that his lids felt stuck together. He stretched his eyebrows, further up . . . further up . . . further up . . . and then his eyes met a blinding light. Instantly they closed again.

Where was he? The piercing light had followed him behind his eyelids in the form of large bright spots. He tried to move . . . but again something hindered him. Where were his arms? Where were his legs? A sickening sense that he had been here before entered his head.

Slowly, carefully he opened his eyes again. His eyes were weak, a baby's eyes, but they could make out the blurs of figures hovering over him, doing something to him.

His arms . . . his legs . . . he couldn't feel them attached to his stumps. Then suddenly there was a jolt of pain in his right leg's stump, as if something were being drilled into it.

Which meant . . .

No. He couldn't be _here _again. Not _here._

His eyes closed again, his mind desperate to conjure up somewhere else, _anywhere _else. Coruscant, maybe. Or Naboo, Naboo would be nice. Even Tatooine would be preferable to this.

_Father, it's all right. You're going to be fine._

The words brushed his mind so lightly that he hardly registered that his son was attempting to send him soothing thoughts. His son . . . his son was here? Though his mind was still cloudy, Anakin made an effort to reach out with the Force and see where Luke was.

He felt Luke's presence right next to him. Han was with him, along with . . . the Alderaaan princess? What was she doing here?

_Sister? So, you have a twin sister._

Anakin would have jumped back had he been able to move. _This _was why the princess always made him think of Padme, _this _was why he always felt hesitant to kill her. She was his daughter. Padme's daughter.

Struggling through the swimming in his head, he reached out with the Force, focusing on Leia, his daughter, feeling anger, tremendous anger, as well as great resentment. And something else . . . confusion, maybe . . . or perhaps bewilderment at what she was observing.

A second jolt of pain, this time in his left leg stump, confirming that he was indeed being reassembled. Again. The bright light that shone over him would soon be extinguished in redness. Then he remembered his last request to his sons. To see them with his own eyes . . . they hadn't honored his wish. No, they had decided to _save_ him instead.

As if he was something worth saving.

He bit down on the breathing mechanism in his mouth, part of him hoping that it would break under his teeth and leave him without air, but he could have no such fortune. Why, _why _were his children so foolish? Did they think he wanted to live on with everything he'd done, trapped in the _thing_ in which he was once more being enclosed?

He opened his eyes again, cursing that horrid light. His eyes moving in the direction where he felt his children, but they could make out nothing more than three blurry figures, no more distinct than the figures he assumed were medical droids.

Never would he see them with his own eyes.

. . . . .

Leia gulped as she looked down at Vader, at her _father. _The mask was coming down on him now, sealing in that deformed face, transforming it once more into the cold, black face she hated so much.

"Why do they have to put him back in there?" Han was muttering, his hands behind his back as he stared at his father.

Leia looked at her fiance. "Well, you wanted to save him, didn't you?"

"Yeah . . . but . . ."

He didn't finish his sentence, but he didn't need to. The forlorn look on his face was enough to tell Leia that he was imagining being trapped in that suit.

"He didn't want us to save him," he said after a few moments.

Leia sighed. "Neither did anyone else."

"Including you?"

Leia flinched, knowing what her answer would be if she were being completely honest. She swallowed hard. "Han . . . you know he'll have to stand trial, right?"

"What?" Han snapped up to face her.

"You heard me," said Leia. "He is a prisoner and must be tried."

"Dammit, Leia!" Han exclaimed. "The guy saved our lives and you wanna try him like a criminal?"

"He _is _a criminal."

"Well, technically," Luke said without looking up from their father, "everything he did was legal because he was doing the bidding of the Emperor."

Leia brushed her teeth over her lip. "The other Rebels won't settle for that, you know it." She looked at her fiance, who still wasn't meeting her eyes. "Think of it, Han. If we just let him go, that puts him in danger of being lynched by the people. A trial is the best way to protect him."

"And if the Rebellion sentences him to death?" Han snapped.

Leia breathed deeply. "Han, I'll do what I can to save him."

Han grabbed her shoulders. "You promise?" His eyes were pleading like a child's.

Leia looked into his eyes, sincerity in her voice. "I promise."


	56. Chapter 56

AN: Thanks for reviewing! It's nice to see that people haven't given up on this fic after such a long time. Anyway, sorry this chapter's so short, but I'd like to update more frequently now.

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 56

_Coruscant, three weeks later_

Darth Vader's trial was brief. There was no need for witnesses or a jurisdiction – he pled guilty to everything. Some of the Rebels who attended the trial were disappointed that there was so little action, while others left in confusion and bewilderment. No one in the entire Rebellion had expected this – except, that is, for three people.

But now there was the issue of his sentence.

Many of the Rebellion leaders were strongly in favor of the death penalty. He needs to be made an example of, they said. We must show that tyranny cannot be tolerated, they said. Besides, he could likely break out of a prison, they said.

It was Leia who spoke out against it, much as part of her didn't want to.

"And what does it say about us when our first act as a new government is an execution? If we are to show that we will be more compassionate than the Empire, we must start out by showing it even to our enemy."

There was silence.

"Even if he _deserves _to die," Leia continued, "killing him will only evoke anger from those who still support the Empire. If we want a peaceful transition back into a Republic, we must take them into consideration."

Her voice was firm, her eyebrows down. Several wanted to argue with her, but she held on to her stance, though somewhere in her heart she wanted to let go of it.

. . . .

Luke, Han, and Chewie were all standing by the doorway to greet Leia when she returned to the small apartment the four of them were currently sharing. Luke and Han looked anxious, and Chewie . . . well, Leia couldn't really tell what Chewie was thinking, but she thought that maybe Han had influenced him to forgive Vader as well in these past few weeks.

"Well?" said Han. "How did it go?"

"Let me in first," said Leia, pushing her way through them and into the apartment and slumping down on the sofa.

"I'm makin' dinner," said Han, sitting next to his fiancée.

"That's nice," said Leia.

Luke and Chewie sat in the armchairs on either side of the sofa and for a long time, no one spoke. Everyone seemed to be waiting for someone else to start a conversation. Leia knew what Han and Luke wanted to ask, but somehow she was having difficulty volunteering the answer herself. She gulped over and over again, different ways of revealing the news dancing in her mind, none of which felt right.

"Twenty years," she finally said.

"What?" Luke and Han reacted together.

"Twenty years in high security prison with possibility of early release after a minimum of five years," Leia said with a sigh. "That's what was decided."

"_Twenty years?"_ Han shouted.

"Han, I had to fight even for that. Most of the others wanted him executed, and then they wanted him to get life in prison."

"_Life –in –prison?_ Shit Leia, didn't you tell them about how he saved our lives?"

"Yes, yes, of course I did, but . . ."

"But what?"

Leia breathed in through her teeth. "Han, will you please _calm down?_ I did all I could to save him from execution. Surely you weren't expecting him to just be pardoned, were you?"

Han grumbled something to himself before Luke spoke up.

"No, of course we weren't expecting a full pardon." Luke was hesitating before every word. "But Leia . . . twenty years?"

"If we have kids, they'll be grown up or almost grown up by the time their grandpa gets out of prison," Han muttered. "What a pretty picture that is – hey kids, let's go visit Grandpa in his cell. Maybe he'll have some prison food to share with ya!"

"Han, please," said Leia. "Do you have _any _idea how hard I had to fight for this? I assure you, Vader's grandchildren would be the least of their concerns if I had brought it up." She looked into her fiance's eyes. "One good deed doesn't change the fact that he did all those things, you know that."

"It ain't just one good deed," Han snapped, folding his arms and sinking down. "We're talkin' savin' the entire galaxy here."

"He's right, Leia," said Luke.

Leia gave a heavy sigh. "Look, I did everything I could, okay?"

"_Did _you?" said Han, his arms still folded. "You sure you didn't _want _him in prison?"

Leia swallowed, her mind whirling slightly, trying to squelch down the personal appeal of Vader being in prison. "Han . . . I did this for you and Luke, you know that."

"So if it _weren't _for us, you would've been fine with executin' him?" Han said in a near-shout.

"I never said that," said Leia. "As I said earlier today, if our first act as a new government is an execution, we are inviting his followers to seek revenge. If we want a peaceful transition, we want to invite them in, not push them out."

Han ground his teeth. "So political mumbo-jumbo is the reason to spare his life?"

Leia abruptly stood up, throwing her arms up in frustration. "Look, what do you _want _from me?"

Both Luke and Han were momentarily taken aback. They stared at her in silence for what must have been a good thirty seconds before Luke gained the ability to speak.

"Well . . ." he began, then proceeded to open and close his mouth several times before continuing, ". . . you said early release is possible after five years, right?"

"_Possible," _said Leia.

"Well five years isn't so bad."

Han snorted. "Say that again after you've spent five years in prison, kid."

As she paced towards the window, Leia found herself wondering if Han had ever spent time in an actual prison himself. Perhaps he did – it wouldn't exactly surprise her.

"Sides," Han continued, "it's only a _possibility._"

"Yes," said Leia, staring out at the racing speeders, "it's a possibility." She slowly looked back at the others. "A possibility that will be entirely up to him."


	57. Chapter 57

AN: Thanks for reviewing as always!

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 57

Anakin sat in his cramped, windowless cell, staring through his mask at the opposite wall. The wall looked red to him, just like everything else, but it was probably really some drab color like gray. His room was perfectly square, with walls barely longer than he was tall. Perhaps this very cell had held captured Rebels just a short time ago. Maybe he would ask, or maybe he wouldn't. He would have twenty years to decide.

Twenty years to stare at that wall, memorize every crack, every smudge, and perhaps make some new ones.

"Prisoner Vader," said a voice from the other side of the door, "you have a visitor."

Prisoner Vader, the guard called him. No longer Lord. He had choked people in the past for forgetting to call him Lord.

"Very well," he said, figuring it wasn't worth the trouble to ask the guard to call him Anakin.

The door opened and in stepped the guard, pointing his blaster in front of him, closely followed by . . . Han, his eyes darting around the cell.

"Ten minutes," the guard said to Han before departing, locking the door behind him.

The father and son stared at each other for a moment before Vader spoke. "Han . . ."

Han gulped. "Hi Dad," he said softly.

Anakin would have sighed if he could breathe on his own. "Why did you come?"

Han's mouth twisted. "Well . . . I wanted to see you, for one thing."

"That was unnecessary," Anakin said with a small harshness. "There is nothing to see here."

"Now c'mon, don't talk like that." Han carefully stepped closer to Anakin, gulping again. The former Sith sensed fear coming off of his son, fear he was desperately trying to squelch down, but it was there, remaining in his instincts to be afraid of Darth Vader.

"I asked you to let me die," Anakin said suddenly. "Why didn't you obey me?"

Han stared at Anakin in disbelief. "I . . . couldn't . . . c'mon, you understand that, don't ya?"

"Look at me," Anakin said. "This is the face hated and feared by the entire galaxy – if you can even call it a face."

Han's eyes were shifting, as if even he couldn't look at the mask for too long. "Well . . . that can change."

"You and I both know that is just wishful thinking."

Han gave an awkward inhale. "Look, I didn't wanna let you die. You'd just become the dad I remembered again."

"Then _why _couldn't you respect my wishes? I could have died with dignity instead of rotting away in here, forced to relive all that I've done."

Han's eyes shifted, then he leaned in until he was inches away from Vader's face. "You know," he whispered, "you could probably bust outta here . . ."

"No," Anakin said without any room for argument. "I am guilty and I must serve my sentence."

Han sighed, glancing at the floor, shifting his weight. "Look . . . I wanted to tell you somethin'."

"And what would that be?"

Han ran his teeth over his lip. "Leia and me . . . we're gonna get married."

"I know," said Anakin. "You told us on the Death Star, remember?"

"Oh . . . right," said Han. He let out a breath that sounded almost like an awkward laugh. "Yeah, I know, she's kinda my sister, but we're not _really _related . . ."

"You have my blessing," Anakin interrupted. "If Padme were alive she would be overjoyed."

Only a second of relief passed over Han's face before it was again overcome with concern. "Well, thanks, but . . . there's somethin' else."

"What?"

"We – well _I_ – want you to be there."

At first Anakin thought his son might be playing a joke, but a look into his eyes said otherwise. "Han . . . you do realize that I'm in here, right? A prison is not a suitable place for a wedding."

"I know, I know, but maybe . . . maybe Leia could get you out for one day. Like, maybe if you had a lotta guards with you or somethin'."

Anakin was silent, imagining his children at the alter, Han smiling and Leia scowling. Scowling at her father, but with every right to scowl.

"Have you talked to Leia about this?" he asked, though he could already guess at the answer.

"Er . . . no, not exactly," said Han.

"You know she will not approve."

"C'mon Dad, you don't _know _that."

"I destroyed her planet," Anakin said harshly. "I tortured her, I imprisoned her, I killed her loved ones." He looked up at his son, wishing he was still capable of conveying facial expression. "I am not worthy to be called her father."

Han sighed. "Look, I'll talk to her. I'm sure we'll be able to work something out."

Just then the door slid open and the guard from before stepped in. "Time's up," he said in a crisp, quick voice.

"One moment more," said Anakin, standing up and delicately removing the glove from his right hand. Once the glove was off, he carefully reached up and brushed his son's cheek, thanking the Force that the medical droids were at least able to bestow one improvement on his fake hands.

Touch sensors.

. . .

"You did WHAT?" Leia exclaimed as they sat around the dinner table.

"I invited Dad to our wedding," said Han, cutting through his nerf steak. "Is that a problem?"

"Of COURSE it's a problem! For one thing he's in _prison." _Leia tapped her fork on her plate.

"Yes indeed," said 3PO, who was standing by the table waiting to clear the plates. "After all, he is highly unlikely to be released for a wedding. And besides, the wedding guests might feel quite uncomfortable with Darth Vader present. Indeed, I know I would feel most uncomfortable."

Han sighed, resting his fork's prongs on his plate and twirling it around. "Goldenrod, when I want your opinion I'll ask for it."

"Well _I _think it's a great idea," said Luke.

"Of course _you _would," sighed Leia.

"What's that s'posed to mean?" Han exclaimed.

Leia looked down at her food. "Look, it would be very difficult to get him out of prison for even one day. Many of the other Rebellion leaders already think we're being much too easy on him. How do you think I'll look to them if I start asking for a pardon so he can go to our wedding?"

"How do you think YOU'LL look?" Han stared at his fiancée. "What the hell's that got to do with anything?"

"Leia," Luke said in a voice that sounded desperate to avoid a fight, "he's your father too, whether you want to admit it or not. I think it would be a wonderful way to show forgiveness towards him."

"And do _I_ get a say in any of this?" Leia snapped, slamming her fork down into her food. "What if I don't _want _him at our wedding?"

Luke and Han stared at her, one on each side of her. Either way she looked, she met with eyes glaring at her, as if they had completely forgotten about Alderaan and everything else Vader did. "I already did him a service by fighting for his life, which wasn't easy to do by any means," she continued. "Why do I owe him the chance to dance with me at my wedding?" She immediately thrust a forkful of vegetables into her mouth.

"Leia . . ." said Han.

"He _destroyed my planet,_" Leia said with her mouth full. "I don't owe him _anything._"

Han stared at her for a second, then he abruptly stood up and stormed out of the room.

"Leia . . ." Luke began.

"Don't 'Leia' me," Leia snapped. "You and Han seem to think that everything is all forgiven and forgotten. Well it's _not._"

"I _know_ that," said Han's voice. Leia looked up and there he was standing in the doorway, clutching something in his hands. "Look, remember this?" He held up the object, revealing that it was the old family holo she had snuck a peek at on the Falcon.

Leia inhaled through her teeth. "Of _course _I remember that, but Han, that was taken over twenty years ago."

"So?" Han sat back down and shoved the holo in Leia's direction. "Why don't you take another look at it?"

Leia looked, though she wanted to turn her head away. There was the same family she saw months ago – _her _family. The father still smiled at his wife and son, a smile oblivious to the future. All these careless smiles in the holo were oblivious. Her eyes then rested on the mother, who died at the hands of her husband. How could Han possibly overlook _that?_

Her hands began shaking as her eyes darted around the three faces in the holo. Han's voice hovered over her saying, "_He's _still there, Leia. Vader's gone," but her mind couldn't register it. In her head, the father's face was merging with Darth Vader's mask, then merging with the deformed face in the bacta tank. The three faces dashed across her head, making her hands vibrate faster.

Suddenly Han snatched the holo from her. "Leia, be _careful_ with that."

Leia didn't even realize she had come close to dropping the holo before Han snatched it. She looked at her fiancé, gulping, still seeing the three unrelated and yet connected faces in her head. Her hands tingled. She glanced down at her food, suddenly finding that she had no more appetite. The three faces whirled around again, all seeming to plead with her, even the black mask.

"All right," she whispered, barely aware she was doing so, making another promise to help the father with whom she wanted nothing to do. "I'll see what I can do."


	58. Chapter 58

AN: Thanks for reviewing! Anyway, I'm using the same interpretation of Padme's family that I used in some of my other fanfics. No need to reinvent the wheel. This fic is ALMOSt finished.

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 58

Mon Mothma looked like she was struggling not to laugh. "Leia . . . darling . . . surely you can't be serious about this."

"I am," said Leia, staring at the papers strewn on Mon Mothma's desk and wishing she could be anywhere else.

"Do you _understand _what you are asking?"

"Yes," Leia said, her voice coming out like a hiss. "One day. That's all I'm asking, one day."

Mon sighed, drumming her fingers on her desk. "The others will not be happy about this."

"I know."

"If you present this motion, it could very well damage your political career."

"I know that too."

"So why are you determined to do this?"

Leia stared at Mon Mothma's fingers, wanting to say that her fiancé insisted on it and she herself would rather if Vader just stayed in prison for her wedding, but when she opened her mouth, something entirely different came out.

"He's my father."

. . . . .

_Naboo, Three months later_

"There it is, sweetheart," said Han, gesturing out the Falcon's viewport at the blue-green planet growing larger below them. "Our mom's home planet."

"It's beautiful," Luke breathed.

Leia nodded in agreement, trying to ignore how her stomach was flipping. Until three months ago, she hadn't even known her aunt and cousins existed, which had led to pure awkwardness the first time she and Luke talked to them on the comm, and even more awkwardness when she had to tell them that they couldn't come see them right away due to being so busy rebuilding the Republic. Even this visit was primarily a political one – they were going to talk to the Queen about the government shift back to a Republic– but probably even Mon Mothma knew the real reason why Leia had offered herself for this particular assignment.

She wanted to meet her family.

. . . .

No one spoke as they made their way up the house's front steps. Even 3PO was quiet for once. The group looked at each other when they reached the door, as if trying to decide who would knock without actually speaking. Finally Han was the one who ended up knocking.

A middle-aged woman with gray streaks in her dark hair answered. She looked like she was about to utter a greeting, but then she saw Han. Aunt and nephew looked at each other for a lingering moment, neither one able to speak even though they had talked on the comm before. Though her Force training had only just begun, Leia could still feel apprehension flowing off of both of them. How did people normally greet relatives they hadn't seen in over twenty years, anyway?

Finally the woman regained the ability to move. Her hands reached out ever-so-slowly until they were touching Han's shoulders, and once they touched him her body dissolved into a hug. "Little Han . . ." she murmured. ". . . my dear little nephew Han . . ."

"Aunt Sola . . ." Han murmured back.

After a lingering embrace, Sola pulled out to look at the others, a bit cautiously. "And my niece and nephew." She looked for a moment like she was pondering whether or not to hug them as well, but then she settled on offering her hand for them to shake. Luke looked slightly disappointed by the gesture, but Leia was rather relieved. The thought of hugging someone who was a nearly-complete stranger didn't really appeal to her.

"Come in, come in," Sola said after she shook their hands. "My daughters are here and they're absolutely dying to see you."

The house automatically felt comfortable, as if Leia had been there before, even though she knew she hadn't. She barely got a glimpse of the numerous holos on the wall before a woman with brown curly hair came running up to Han and threw her arms around him.

"HAN!" she cried. "Cousin Han, oh Force, we thought you were dead for so long."

"Pooja!" scolded a deep voice. A slightly older, noticeably pregnant woman with long dark hair approached them, a hand on her hip and a knowing expression on her face. "He's only been here two seconds and already you decide to smother him?"

"I'm not _smothering, _him," Pooja protested, though her grip on Han did loosen a bit.

The pregnant woman laughed a bit, then she offered her hand to Leia. "So finally I get to meet my cousins."

Leia shook the woman's hand. "You must be Ryoo."

"Yes," said Ryoo, "and the overly-excited one is my little sister Pooja."

Luke was grinning at the show Pooja had put on. "It's great to finally meet you all."

Chewie roared in agreement, causing Sola, Ryoo, and Pooja to jump back for a moment, but then they smiled at him.

"Hello there," 3PO said, grabbing Sola's hand. "I am C-3PO, human-cyborg relations. I am fluent in over six million forms of communication."

"Er . . . hello," said Sola. She turned to the others. "Well, I have lunch almost ready if you'd like to come to the dining room."

Han gave his large grin. "Ah, I remember your cooking. Can't wait."

. . . . .

After lunch was served, everyone was quiet for a while, all eager for conversation but waiting for someone else to actually start it. Han closed his eyes as he ate, trying to imagine that he was five years old again, that he and Padme were visiting the family together and he was trying to get through his vegetables so he could have a cookie afterward.

"Well," Pooja's voice said, causing Han to open his eyes, "I'm sure we all have a lot to catch up on."

"Yeah," Luke said awkwardly.

"So I think we should go around the table telling some things about ourselves," said Pooja. "It'll be like a game."

Han grinned at Pooja resembling her childhood self. She could never resist a good game.

"I'll start," Pooja continued. She folded her hands as if she had a secret she couldn't wait to tell. "My name is Pooja Naberrie and I'm a member of the queen's advisory board. The queen is my best friend – besides my sister, of course. I like socializing a lot and people tell me I have too much energy." She pointed her hand, palm up, at Ryoo. "Now you."

Ryoo rolled her eyes, but she complied. "My name is Ryoo Naberrie, and I'm pregnant with my first child. My husband Siran couldn't be here because he's at work. Usually I'm an architect, but I'm on leave with the baby coming."

Luke was next. He gave a sheepish grin, but didn't complain. "Hi, my name is Luke Skywalker, and I'm, er, the last of the Jedi. My father's in prison even though he redeemed himself."

Leia glared at her brother, but she took her turn. "My name is Leia Organa and I'm working for the newly-rebuilt Republic. I used to be an Imperial senator, but I was a secret member of the Rebellion. I'm engaged, but we can't be married for a year because my _father _has to be there for some reason."

She nudged Han, who suddenly felt the weight of his fiancée's glare. "Well, I'm Han Solo and I'm captain of the Millennium Falcon – which happens to be the fastest ship in the galaxy."

Pooja giggled, but Han ignored the interruption. "I'm engaged to the most amazing woman in the galaxy." He squeezed Leia's hand. "And you guys are all invited to the wedding, but I'm guessin' you already knew that. Let's see, what else . . . oh yeah, I got sent to an orphanage when my mom died and my dad became a Sith Lord, but you probably know that too."

"Indeed," said Sola, sniffing a bit as she sipped her tea.

Chewie was next. He gave a few roars which Han translated as an introduction, a mention that he served as copilot of the Millennium Falcon, and that he had saved Han's life more times than he could count.

"Well," Sola said when the Wookiee was finished, "I guess it's my turn now."

"Yup," said Han.

"Hmmm," said Sola, rubbing her lips together. "Well, my name is Sola Naberrie, and I have two grown children, which makes me feel extremely old."

"Moooom," Pooja giggled.

"My sister died young," Sola continued, "and for years I thought my nephew died with her. Apparently a certain Jedi thought I was incapable of taking care of him."

"It was to protect him," Luke immediately intervened. "It was too easy for our father to find him here."

"But would it have _really _been so difficult to _tell _us that?" said Sola, glaring at her nephew.

"No, it _wouldn't,"_ growled Han. "But then again, that guy wasn't exactly honest – was he Luke?"

"_Any_-way," Pooja quickly said, "let's have another round, shall we?"

. . . .

They continued for several rounds, filling each other in on the last two decades. By the time dessert was served, Han felt like their long separation hadn't even occurred, and Luke and Leia appeared just as relaxed.

"So you're all comin' to the wedding, right?" he asked.

"Of course," said Pooja.

"We wouldn't miss it," said Sola.

"So the . . . _guest list_ doesn't bother you?" Leia blurted out.

Everyone looked at her in uncomfortable silence. Han alternately wanted to shout at her and sink under the table, but found he could do neither. He could only stare at her just as everyone else was doing, though he had no idea why. Shouldn't he be defending their father?

"No, of course not," Pooja finally said, though the slight tremor in her voice betrayed otherwise.

"He _will _be guarded, won't he?" said Ryoo.

"Of course," Leia said gruffly. "Any steps out of place and he will be shot on sight."

"_Leia!" _Han and Luke exclaimed together.

"What?" said Leia. "It's true, isn't it?"

Han wanted to argue, but he couldn't deny that it _was_ true. It was the only way Anakin would be allowed at the wedding at all.

"You don't need to worry," Luke said with complete confidence. "Our father won't hurt anyone."

"The guards are well trained, right?" Ryoo persisted.

Han inhaled through his teeth. "Oh come _on_. You guys all knew him, you remember him."

"Yes," Ryoo said stiffly. "But that was _before._"

"Before," Sola repeated in a mumble.

Han looked down at his food, knowing it was pointless to argue further, hoping he wasn't making a mistake in letting Anakin come to the wedding.


	59. Chapter 59

AN: Thanks for reviewing! There will be one more chapter after this one. GOD, was this chapter freakin' hard to write. Incidentally, there's a little "in joke" in this chapter for those who have read my other story, "My Mother." Oh, and I got the idea for Leia calling Han "hotshot" from the deleted scenes on the Star Wars Blu-Ray set (if you don't have it, buy it!).

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 59

_Coruscant, One Year Later_

The Coruscant sun.

Even tinted in red, the sight brought peace to Anakin's mind. He would be ecstatic to see _any _sun after a year in prison, even the twin suns of Tatooine. If only he could breathe the outdoor air. He wished he could spread his arms in the sun's rays, but of course his hands were bound, as were his feet. He was surrounded by eight guards, all armed with blaster rifles, pointed directly at the gaps in his suit.

They were pushing him with those blasters, making sure he kept up in an orderly fashion. He tried not to look at the shuttle they were leading him to. All the other wedding guests could take their own ships or ride with friends, but not Anakin.

He would be escorted via prison shuttle.

. . . . .

_Naboo_

Once Leia and Han had visited their family a year ago, there was never any question on where the wedding would be held. Naboo held the same magic for them as it did for their parents. It wasn't long before Queen Rianna herself agreed to perform the ceremony. Leia and Han suspected that she might be doing them this favor because she liked Luke, but they wouldn't ask.

The palace of Theed was packed full of people, many of whom didn't even know the bride and groom personally but were invited nonetheless because they were people of "prominence." The bride and groom themselves probably would have preferred a wedding that wasn't so crowded, but being war heroes, it couldn't really be helped.

Far in the back, on a balcony overlooking the ceremony, surrounded by guards, Anakin watched. He watched his daughter walk down the aisle in her long white dress and lacey veil. He saw Han standing at the alter awaiting his bride, with Luke and Chewie by his side. The groom discreetly adjusted his collar, uncomfortable in his tan suit but bearing it nonetheless. On the bride's side of the alter stood Ryoo and Pooja, Pooja in a light blue dress and Ryoo in a dark blue one. 3PO and R2 stood off to the side, perhaps the "best droids," though they officially had no title. In the front row of pews sat Sola, Lando, Mon Mothma, Biggs, Wedge, and Ryoo's husband Siran, who was holding their daughter, baby Padme.

Anakin hadn't seen his great-niece in person before, even though Luke had shown him a holo of her during one of his visits to prison. This would probably be the only time he would see her in person, and it was from a distance, through that eternal red tint of his mask. How he wanted to hold her with real hands, see her with real eyes, touch her little cheek, tell her about the great-aunt after whom she was named. There were times when his suit felt more like a prison than his cell.

Leia was at the alter now, holding hands with Han while the queen recited the wedding speech. With her elaborate blue dress, silver crown, and painted face, the queen resembled Padme. From this distance, Anakin could perhaps imagine that Padme was marrying her children.

"I, Han Solo, do take you, Leia Organa . . ."

Han said his vows with complete confidence, as if he had been waiting to say these words for a long time – which of course was true. It was only his father that had delayed it.

"I, Leia Organa, do take you, Han Solo . . ."

Leia's voice was equally confident. She said the words rapidly, as if they were bursting out of her, having been imprisoned for so long.

Her father should be down there with her.

Down _there, _able to witness the happy scene _up close, _able to be _part _of it, not up here, an outside observer, and an unwanted one at that, unwanted by all but two, possibly three, people. Leia had only visited the prison a few times, always accompanied by either Luke or Han. She never said much beyond an overly formal "Hello" and "Goodbye," but she always stared at him as if her eyes were trying to carve through his suit. Anakin always sensed her discomfort and her eagerness to leave all too well.

But still, she had fought for his life. She had even fought for him to come to the wedding, which she certainly didn't have to do. Even though she had claimed that it was only for Han and Luke's sake, if she was adamant about him _not _being at the wedding, she wouldn't have fought for it. Anakin had seen her strong will over and over – surely she hadn't been completely _against _the idea of her father being at the wedding, right?

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," the queen's accented voice echoed. "You may kiss."

Leia and Han threw their arms around each other and kissed so hard they appeared to be crushing each other's faces. A second into the kiss, the wedding guests spontaneously rose and broke into applause. Once Leia and Han separated their lips, they waved at their adoring public.

Anakin rose with all the others, but the binders on his wrists prevented him from applauding.

. . . . .

Leia was trying to eat, but she was having difficulty with her new husband wanting to kiss her every few seconds. The wedding band was playing a pleasant string tune, but no one in the ballroom was dancing yet – they were still digging into the cake Leia had cut a few minutes before. She tried not to think about how there was one guest who _couldn't _eat somewhere. She couldn't see him at the moment, but she felt his presence, which was almost making her wish she hadn't agreed to let Luke teach her to use the Force.

"Han," Leia said when Han kissed her cheek for the fifth time, "come on, don't you want cake?"

"You already gave me some, remember?" purred Han.

"Then here, have some more." Leia picked up Han's plate and held it inches away from his face. "Come on, don't you want it?"

"Le-ia," Han said with a laugh, gently pushing the plate away from his face.

"It's not like you to turn down food," Leia chided.

Han smirked as he put the plate down, then he leaned over and stole yet another kiss. "I've got plenty of time to eat, wife." He kissed her again. "Wife."

"Husband," Leia responded.

She smiled, but something inside her was churning. The presence was there, no matter how much she tried to ignore it. The worst of it wasn't that the presence was _there _but how the presence _felt._ The presence felt not angry, not hateful, not destructive, but _sad._ It wasn't a normal kind of sadness either. It was . . . anguish, regret, years' worth of deeds weighing down on him, deeds that could never be undone. Lives taken, hearts broken, so much that would always be a part of him. It almost gave her pain to feel such regret.

The band stopped playing suddenly, distracting her, causing her to look over and see the lead band member speaking into his microphone. "All right everyone," his voice boomed. "If the bride and groom are finished eating, would they be so kind as to honor us with a dance?"

Leia looked at Han, silently asking if he was finished eating, and he answered by rising from his seat and offering his hand. "Shall we dance, m'ilady?"

"You know I don't dance much," said Leia.

"Neither do I," said Han. "Cept when I'm drunk, of course."

With that, the bride took the groom's hand and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. They placed their free hands on each other's waists and began swaying to the music, though it was somewhat awkwardly. Wasn't this supposed to be a magical moment? As the faces of the onlookers swirled around her, only one face that she still couldn't see was in her mind.

"Han?" she whispered.

"Hmm?"

"Are you really all right with . . . our guest list?"

Han's eyes widened slightly. "Leia, what the hell makes you think that?"

"You had the dream last night," Leia said softly as Han began spinning her around.

Han paused momentarily. "What?"

"I heard you crying. You hadn't done that in a while, but last night you did. I tried to wake you, but then you seemed to settle down."

Han quickly finished the spin and put his hands on Leia's shoulders, but he wouldn't look her in the eye.

"Even you were apprehensive about him being out of the cell, weren't you?" said Leia.

Han only gulped. After a moment or two he began peering around as if looking for something. "Speakin' of which, where _is _he?"

How Leia had hoped he wouldn't ask that question. She gave a large inhale that almost made her dizzy. "I'm not sure where he is, but . . . I feel him."

"Yeah?" said Han, pulling her closer to him. "What's he feelin'?"

Leia closed her eyes, sending herself out into the Force, brushing her father's spirit. "He's . . . sad . . . but also . . .proud." Her eyes shot open the instant she spoke that last word. "Proud of us, I guess."

"Proud of us," Han repeated as a smile stretched his lips. He leaned over and kissed his new wife as the music ended. The guests broke into applause, reminding Leia of their presence and making her feel slightly guilty for having only been thinking about one of them. Were _his _fake hands participating in the applause? No, they couldn't, Leia reminded herself, they were bound.

For the second dance, it was traditional on Naboo for the bride to dance with her father and the groom to dance with his mother, but since both of Han's mothers were dead, he would dance with Sola. He winked at his wife and kissed her hand one more time before sauntering off to find his aunt, leaving Leia alone in the growing crowd of people making their way to the dance floor. She shuffled around, looking for her own dance partner. Like Han, she would also break tradition with this dance, despite the fact that her _traditional _partner was actually here. Sure, Luke had mentioned it to her, but she would hear none of it. She would _not _dance with her father.

The music was starting, a happy, bouncy waltz. Ryoo and Siran brushed past Leia, winking at her. Even R2 was gliding around to the music – so _where _was Leia's partner? Her eyes darted around the couples, realizing that she must look incredibly silly standing in the middle of the ballroom with no partner at her own wedding.

"Hey Leia, may I have this dance?"

Leia whirled around and there was her brother, smiling at her and bowing slightly, offering his hand. Leia quickly smiled at him and took his hand, hoping he wouldn't comment on exactly why they were dancing together. They whirled around the other dancers without speaking, with Leia trying unsuccessfully to focus only on the dance. Whatever Luke was thinking now, he was blocking it from her. Did he think her weak for insisting on dancing with him instead of her father?

They passed Han and Sola, who smiled at them as they twirled by. Leia wasn't even sure if she was smiling back. Vader's thoughts were back in her mind as if he were sending them to her – maybe he was. She felt the horrible confinement of the suit, of his actually body consisting of nothing more than a torso with a head on top and useless stumps dangling where arms and legs should be, always carrying two weights: the physical weight of his suit and the weight of the deeds he did. The people killed, the torture inflicted, still there, still happened, and no amount of remorse would ever change that. She saw the world the way he saw it in his suit, eternally red, though he remembered other colors and longed to see them again. Just to see yellow, or green, or _something _other than red was an impossibility.

She wasn't really paying attention to where they were going by now, so it came as a bit of a surprise when she found herself no longer holding Luke's hands, even though the music was still going. Her head whirled around and found Luke – now dancing with Queen Rianna. What? Why would he do that?

"Daughter . . ."

With the deep, cold voice brushing her ear, along with the heavy, hissing breathing, she knew why. She turned around in tiny increments and sure enough, there _he _was, sitting at a table in the very back of the room, his guards standing around him like they were frozen. His bound hands were resting in his lap, as if awaiting something.

"Daughter . . ." he said again, sounding almost in a daze.

Leia's body stiffened as it always did when she was close to him. She tried to look into his eyes, but there were no eyes to look into, only those empty black circles that showed approximately where the eyes would go. "You and Luke planned this, didn't you?" she said coldly.

"He was the one with the idea," Anakin said.

"Well it won't work," said Leia. "I won't dance with you, you know that."

"I don't expect you to."

"Then what do you want?"

The father and daughter stared at each other in silence, Leia shifting her gaze from the circles that didn't resemble eyes to the breather vent that didn't resemble a mouth and back again. The music seemed far away now, overtaken by that horrible mechanical breathing. Her dress was itching, but scratching herself in front of him made her more uncomfortable than an itch did.

"You look beautiful," Anakin said.

Leia stiffened further as one of Anakin's hands rubbed against the other, struggling to remove the glove, slowly revealing his new robotic hand that looked like flesh and had touch sensors. He raised his bound hands and gently brushed them against her skirt. "You mother had a dress like this for our wedding." He pinched the lace in her skirt. "I assume yours is white like hers?"

"Yes," said Leia, running her hand down her skirt so he would get the message to let go. "I guess you must be tired of red by now," she said awkwardly as her father removed his hands.

"It gets irritating at times," Anakin replied.

Another few seconds of silence before Leia regained the ability to speak, and when she spoke, the words that came out weren't the ones her mind had intended to say.

"You know that Han still has nightmares about you?" she said, her voice becoming harsher with every word.

"Still?" Anakin said vaguely.

Leia nodded rapidly. "Even _last night_. He may act like he's all right with everything, but the memories still haunt him. When he was recovering from the drugs – the drugs _you _gave him – I lost count how many times I heard him cry in his sleep."

Anakin's head was lowering. "I heard it too, many times."

"I hope his nightmares gave _you _nightmares," Leia snarled.

"They did," Anakin said simply, raising his head to look back at his daughter. "I know you won't believe me, but I did that to _protect _him. Had I not frozen him, the bounty hunter would have taken him to Jabba the Hutt, who would have killed him immediately." Leia could feel his stare even though his eyes weren't visible. "You can understand, can't you? The Emperor would have wanted me to kill him. I _had _to keep him hidden."

"Hidden and _drugged?_"

"The drugs only put him to sleep," Anakin argued. "They didn't harm him."

Leia knew that – perhaps in the back of her mind she even understood Anakin's reasoning – but she wouldn't betray that to her father. "Shall I remind you of everything _else _you did?"

"I'd rather if you didn't," Anakin said, his artificial fingers curling in his lap. "It haunts me enough as it is."

"It _haunts _you." Her voice wanted to come out in a sarcastic tone, but instead it came out soft and almost . . . concerned.

"Yes," said Anakin. "Like it haunts you."

Leia sighed, trying to find Han with the Force but finding herself unable to concentrate. "Look . . . what do you want from me?"

Anakin looked into her eyes – she couldn't see his eyes but she _felt _him looking into hers. "I . . . want to be your father," he said.

"What?"

His mask almost looked like it was pleading, though Leia tried to convince herself that it only looked that way because she was so stressed.

"I don't expect forgiveness," Anakin continued. "Nor do I expect you to ever love me. I can only hope that you will accept me as your father."

Leia stared at him. What was he actually asking her to do? Not forgive him, not love him, but merely _accept _him. What did that exactly _mean?_ Stop reminding him of his past?

"Reach into my mind," Anakin said steadily.

Leia's eyes widened until they started to dry.

"Just do it," said Anakin.

Leia blinked either to moisten her eyes or delay what he was asking her to do. She took a long inhale, closing her eyes, and released herself into the Force. Her consciousness floated in hesitance for a few moments, unwilling to see the entire truth, but then after another inhale, she merged herself with Anakin's soul.

It all came so fast, like a wave crashing onto the beach and dragging the sand away with it. She saw Anakin holding his mother as she died in his arms, felt his rage afterwards. She saw Anakin finding a lost baby – Han, she realized – and taking it home. She saw him with Padme – her mother – teaching the baby to walk. Aging rapidly in her mind, the child climbed into bed with his parents, pretended to fly into space with his father, rolled around on the floor with his mother, making her look incredibly undignified and yet still so beautiful.

Leia almost smiled, but then the scene changed. She felt the burning, unbearable pain and suffocation of being consumed in Mustafar's lava, the weight of the suit pressing down on Anakin's body for the first time. She heard his devastated cry when Palpatine told him his family was dead.

Her eyes opened, sending her back into her physical body. She blinked, bringing Anakin's mask back into focus, still looking at her with that completely unreadable "face." Her gaze went down to the one part of him that looked human – his still-ungloved hand. The craftsmanship on that hand was exceptional, like with Luke's hand. If she didn't already know it was fake, she could easily believe it was a natural hand.

"Hey sweetheart, hey Dad."

She exhaled when she heard her new husband's voice, feeling like she had been holding her breath for a while. Han took her hand and kissed it, though she remained staring at her father's hand.

"So, have you two been talking?" Han asked in a hopeful voice.

"Yes," said Anakin.

Leia kept staring down at that hand peeking out of his suit, that one touch of humanity in the otherwise mechanical-looking body.

"So . . ." Han said awkwardly, ". . . what've you been talking about?"

Leia slowly looked at her husband, remembering Anakin's memory of finding the baby. Han would have died in infancy were it not for Anakin. She had known it before, but now she had _seen _it, which somehow made it feel more real than a story of something that happened long ago. He had taken her planet, her family, hurt the people she cared about . . . and yet he had also _given _her Han.

What she had lost could never be forgotten, but perhaps, _perhaps, _she could look at Anakin for what he was now. Neither an evil monster nor a pure-hearted hero, but some sort of odd combination of the two.

Slowly she reached out, offering her hand. After a moment, he awkwardly raised his bound hands yet again and took hers in his ungloved hand, taking great care not to squeeze it too hard in the metal.

When their hands separated, Leia looked back at her husband, who was smiling one of the biggest smiles Leia had ever seen, which was quite a feat for him. "Okay, you wanna dance now?"

Leia wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a quick kiss. "Okay hotshot, let's dance."


	60. Chapter 60

AN: Well here it is, the LAST chapter. An extra special THANK YOU to everyone who read and reviewed over the years. I honestly didn't intend to take so long to finish this fic, but you know, life gets in the way. And yes, I ended up using my OC Rianna (from my other story "My Mother") a little bit more than I intended - sometimes things go that way.

"Father and Son"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 60

_Six months later_

It was a lazy winter afternoon on Naboo. Snow was falling in large flakes outside Queen Rianna's window, where she and Luke were lounging on the bed, having just been through a strenuous Force training session. The discovery that Rianna was Force-sensitive had gotten Luke to think that perhaps he and Leia could rebuild the Jedi Order someday, but for now he was just enjoying the moment, running his hand through Rianna's thick black hair, pinching her tangles, listening to her content sighs, gazing at her tan face which was still slightly flushed from the training session.

"Rianna?" he said softly.

"Yes?"

Luke took a deep breath, calming himself before speaking. "Rianna . . . I want to marry you."

Rianna gave a small squeal as a big smile spread across her face. "Luke, are you really asking me to marry you?"

Luke gazed down at the mattress. "No, I'm not. Not _yet_, anyway."

Rianna rolled over to her side, staring at him in disappointment. "What do you mean?"

Luke's fingers were tracing circles into the mattress. "I _will _ask you. I'm just not asking you _yet."_

He looked back up, seeing his girlfriend sighing and glancing downward. "This is about your father, isn't it?" she muttered.

Luke sighed.

"You know that it would be nearly impossible to get him out of prison again," Rianna continued.

"Yes," said Luke, "which is why I would like to wait until he's released."

Rianna's head shot up, glaring at him. "Wait _twenty years?_"

"No," Luke said quickly, brushing Rianna's forehead with his real hand. "After five years, he has a chance of early release."

"There's no guarantee . . ."

"I know," Luke interrupted. "I know, but I have faith in him." He took his girlfriend's hand and stroked her knuckles with his thumb. "How about this? If he _doesn't _get released after five years, then we can go ahead and get married."

Rianna gave a long sigh, pushing her hand out of Luke's and reaching over to touch her boyfriend's shoulder. "Luke . . . that's still a long time. What if we no longer feel the same way by then?"

Luke reached up to his shoulder and took her hand again. "Then we can go our separate ways – but I sense that we'll still feel the same way." He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it. "I have faith in _you _too."

Rianna's bright green eyes stared at him for several moments. For a second or two Luke worried that she might be considering breaking up right then and there, saving them both the trouble of waiting so long, but then a look of acceptance gradually overtook her face and she gave a small nod.

"Okay," she whispered.

Luke gave a relieved smile. "Really?"

"Really." She leaned over and gave Luke a kiss. "I can have faith too."

. . . . .

_Coruscant, One year later_

"Prisoner Skywalker, you have visitors."

Anakin nodded at the guard. He wasn't exactly sure why, but he was finally "Prisoner Skywalker" to the guards instead of "Prisoner Vader." Most likely his children had had something to do with that.

Leia and Han entered the cell, both looking rather nervous. After the guard's familiar "Ten minutes" and the locking of the door, the couple walked up to their father, clasping each other's hands.

"Hey Dad," Han said with his large grin. "Guess what?"

Anakin didn't get a chance to actually guess, since Leia stepped up to him and took his gloved hand. "Father . . ." she said in a voice that sounded like she was about to burst, ". . . I'm pregnant."

Anakin suddenly felt dizzy. The same two words Padme had spoken so long ago, the words that had been the beginning of the end. Death in childbirth – would he start having nightmares about his daughter suffering it as well? No . . no . . . not again, not again.

"Dad?" Han asked. "Are you all right?"

Anakin stared at his daughter's stomach which held new life. What _would _have happened to Padme if he hadn't been so desperate to save her? Would she have died in childbirth anyway, or was it only his actions that killed her? He would never know.

"You're worried about me," Leia said suddenly.

She touched her stomach, staring at him, making him wish he had shielded his feelings from her.

"I won't die in childbirth," she said steadily.

The same thing Padme said. The same pointless attempt at comforting him. Anakin's gaze wandered over to his son, whose eyes had suddenly widened. He sensed those unwelcome memories swirling in Han's head.

"_Train yourself to let go of all your fear to lose."_

Why were Yoda's words in his mind again? Those impossible to obey words that had only made everything worse. He looked into his daughter's eyes that so closely resembled Padme's, cursing that she couldn't see his face through the mask.

"It's all right," Leia said gently, putting her hand on his armored shoulder.

"Dad, please," Han said in an uncertain voice, "don't do anything stupid. Not again." He put his hands on his wife's shoulders. "See, she's fine. She's strong."

Strong. Padme was strong too, but that didn't save her in the end.

After a moment's hesitation, Leia put her hands on the sides of Anakin's helmet, closing her eyes. She gave a steady breath and Anakin could feel a calming presence in his mind, a presence he almost rejected right away. Did he have a _right _to be calmed down if his personal history would repeat itself?

"Be assured," she said. "Don't be afraid."

"_Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering."_

No, he couldn't be afraid. Not again. He couldn't cause more suffering.

After Leia removed her hands, he stood up and gathered his son and daughter into his arms. The guards would probably laugh at this sight, but he didn't care. As he embraced his children, his mind traveled into a possible future. He imagined his daughter crying out as she gave birth, followed by eternal silence. He imagined Han bursting into inconsolable sobs. He imagined being told his daughter was gone forever, another life destroyed for a baby's sake.

The scenes seemed to float in his head. It _was _possible – after all, it _had _happened to Padme – but it was only _one _possible future. There were others, right? And even if that _was _the future . . . what then?

What then?

He would have once asked a similar question about Padme's death. What then? He would have thought the world would cease to exist, but it didn't. He would have thought that life would be worth nothing without Padme, but somehow it was still worth something. He would have thought Padme was his entire reason for existence, yet he still existed without her.

Was _that _what Yoda meant?

As he pulled out of the embrace, Anakin looked down at his daughter's smile. She had Padme's smile, the smile that could grant him peace of mind no matter what mood he had previously been in.

"Congratulations, Leia," he said, nodding at the young couple.

And no nightmares haunted him that night.

. . . . .

_Nine months later_

"Do you really feel safe bringing your children here?" the guard outside Anakin's cell asked. "Aren't you concerned for their safety?"

"Bantha shit," said Han, cradling his baby son. "These are his grandkids."

"We wish to show the prisoner his grandchildren," said Leia, who was cradling her baby daughter. "_Surely _you won't deny the war heroes their request?"

The guard sighed. "No, I won't," he said, "but I don't like this."

He opened the door and the couple hurried in, not bothering to listen to his call of "ten minutes." Anakin was seated on the bench as usual, but he perked up when he sensed the coming of his children.

"You're a grandfather," Leia breathed. "Twins."

For a moment Anakin simply looked up at them, his mask vacant of expression but his emotion pouring into Leia's head. She felt relief coming from her father that she did _not _die in childbirth, followed by amazement that they were actually taking their babies to the prison.

"Twins," he finally repeated in his low voice.

"Yes," said Leia, "twins." She stepped up to her father, holding the baby for him to see. "This is your granddaughter, Jaina."

Han stepped up next to her, holding their son up to their father. "Your grandson, Jacen."

Anakin stiffened up against the wall. "They'll be afraid of me."

"No they won't," said Leia. "Really, they won't."

"We want 'em to get to know you now," added Han. "So they _won't _be scared of you later."

Anakin slowly rose, leaning forward in increments. Leia held her breath, focusing on soothing her children with the Force, silently praying that they wouldn't start crying at the sight of their grandfather. Anakin was taking off his gloves, revealing those flesh-imitating hands, moving them closer and closer to the babies' heads.

And he touched them.

Leia slowly exhaled as she realized what was happening. Her children weren't crying – they were merely looking up at their grandfather with wide baby eyes. As Anakin's hands stroked their foreheads, Leia sensed that he was acting with caution, always conscious that his hands were still made of metal. He was being as gentle as if they were his own children. His fingers slowly moved upward and brushed their tufts of downy brown hair.

Leia felt peace. Peace flowing off of her father _and _her children.

. . . . .

_Two years later_

Han couldn't stay still. He kept rising from the bench outside the senate's debate chamber only to sit back down. The speeders eternally flying past the large windows did nothing to distract him, nor did Luke and Rianna sitting on the bench next to him, Luke clasping his girlfriend's hand. Han found himself wishing they hadn't left the children at home with Chewie babysitting them. At least rambunctious toddlers would distract him better than this unchanging view.

"D'you think we're doin' the right thing?" he suddenly asked as he leaned against the window.

"What?" said Luke.

"Do you think we're doin' the right thing?" Han repeated, looking down at Luke. "You know, tryin' to get him out of prison."

"What?" said Luke. He stood up and walked next to his brother. "Han, isn't this what you've been hoping for for five years?"

"Well . . . yeah . . . but . . ." Han turned to look back out the window. "Even if he gets let out, what'll happen _next?_ You know the galaxy isn't gonna be all forgive and forget." He pressed his hand against the glass. "And even if by some miracle they start appreciating how he killed the Emperor, he's still got that . . . _thing_ on him. He'll be an outcast for the rest of his life no matter what."

Luke gazed out the window, his ghostly reflection merging with the outside traffic. "Yes, he will," he said solemnly.

"What?" Han exclaimed. "You weren't sp'osed to agree with me."

"Well I agree with you too," said Rianna, joining them at the window. "He _won't _be an accepted member of society. The galaxy still fears him and no one can do anything to change that."

"So why're we even doin' this?" Han said with a sigh that fogged up the window. "At least in prison he didn't _have _to be an accepted member of society. At least there he was _safe."_

Luke put his robotic hand on his brother's shoulder, letting Han feel the pressing grip of the metal. "Han, do you think he _wants _to spend the next fifteen years in that cell?" He wiped the fog from Han's sigh off the window. "I'm sure he's thought about all this a hundred times over. But you know what?" He patted Han's shoulder, bringing it a bit of pain. "He won't have to face the galaxy alone. He has us." His reflection smiled at his brother. "And if it weren't for you, he'd be dead. Even though he wanted us to let him die, I think by now he's started to appreciate what you did for him."

Han shrugged. "It just didn't seem right to let him die after he finally became the dad I remembered."

Just then they heard the rumble of crowds moving about in the senate chamber, indicating that the meeting was over. Han's stomach did a flip as the door opened and the crowds of senators began filing out. He gulped, trying to pick Leia out of the hordes of people pushing their way out. Soon the hall was full of senators going this way and that, chattering about hell-knew-what, but still there was no sign of Leia.

"I see her!" Luke finally exclaimed.

Sure enough, there she was, her blue and purple senate robes dancing around her feet and the hair buns around her ears starting to come undone as she pushed her way through the crowd. When she reached her husband, she took his hands, panting for a few seconds, then she threw her arms around him.

"We did it," she whispered.

It took Han a couple of seconds to realize what she meant. "You mean . . .?"

Leia nodded. "Tomorrow he'll be a free man."

The next thing Han knew, he was in the middle of a group hug with Leia and Luke. Even Rianna joined the hug after a few moments, but once she did, Luke seemed to remember something important, for he broke out of the hug and dropped to one knee, nearly causing a few passing senators to trip over his leg.

"Rianna," he said, taking his girlfriend's hand, "will you marry me?"

Rianna grinned, giving a short laugh. "You know I will."

Luke stood up and kissed his new fiancée, and at the same time the long married Han and Leia dissolved into their own kiss. Han knew there were probably technicalities with his father's release – the New Republic would likely still keep a close eye on him – but for the moment, all that mattered was that at this time tomorrow he would be free.

. . . .

_En route to Naboo_

Again Anakin was being escorted to Naboo via prison shuttle, only this time, the shuttle wouldn't be taking him back. He wasn't at all surprised to learn that his children had moved to Naboo, though he suspected that part of that decision had to do with him. They knew he would have to live with them after he got out of prison – a condition of his release – and they knew which planet he would most like to live on.

"You have some very persistent children," said one of his guards.

"I am proud of them," Anakin replied simply, leaning back in his seat.

"Though I have to say," the guard continued, playing with a piece of her hair. "killing the Emperor probably helped your chances of getting out early. Not to mention that you've caused absolutely no trouble in prison."

Anakin said nothing, instead looking out at Naboo growing larger and larger outside the shuttle.

"So, do you have any plans for the future?" the guard asked.

"No," said Anakin. "I just want to be with my children."

. . . .

_Naboo_

Not surprisingly, as soon as Anakin and his guard started to descend the shuttle ramp, the press bombarded them. The flashes of holocameras irritated the redness in Anakin's mask and the questions coming from all directions seemed to pound in his brain.

"Lord Vader, is it true that you and the Emperor had a falling out before you killed him?"

"Lord Vader, is there any chance of getting the suit removed?"

"Lord Vader, will you be keeping the suit black or painting it another color?"

"Lord Vader, has your time in prison changed your outlook on life?"

"Lord Vader, do you think the New Republic's justice system is perhaps too lenient?"

"HEY!" a familiar deep, brash voice called. "He's not interested in your stupid questions right now!"

Han stepped up to his father, followed by Luke and Leia, though the press still crowded around them, still bombarding Anakin with questions.

"Ignore them," said Luke.

"Senator Organa Solo," a reported said to Leia, "what was your method for getting your father out of prison?"

"I have no comments," said Leia. "_None _of us have any comments."

Han grabbed one of Anakin's arms. "C'mon, let's get outta here."

"We have to come too," one of the guards said.

"Fine," said Han, waving his arm at the reporters, trying unsuccessfully to get them to leave. "Just don't let _them _follow us."

. . . .

After the guards gave Anakin and his children a briefing about how they would be constantly checking in to see how things were going and how Anakin would need one of his children to accompany him whenever he went out, he was finally able to enter Leia and Han's house, and instantly he was consumed by memories of Padme's house. The windows were large, inviting the sunlight, and there was even a view of the lake in the distance. Holos of the children covered the walls, the faces smiling down at their grandfather. Even the couches in the living room were large and inviting, covered with flowered fabric.

"Is someone home?" called Rianna's accented voice from one of the other rooms.

"Yes," Leia called back. "Tell the children that their grandfather's home.

Anakin's stomach suddenly hurt. As their parents wanted, Jaina and Jacen were used to his presence after visiting him in prison multiple times, but how would they react to him _living _with them?

"Gra'pa! Gra'pa!"

No sooner had he thought that than Jaina and Jacen came running in, their little arms waving. Within moments they were each wrapping their arms around his legs, a sight that would no doubt be considered comical by some, but Anakin didn't care. He took off his gloves and rubbed their heads.

"Yes, Grandpa's going to be staying with us," Leia said. "We're going to take care of him."

"Yay!" Jaina cried.

Anakin smiled.

Rianna entered the room, wiggling her fingers to show off her new engagement ring, but Anakin hardly noticed it. His focus was on the baby in Rianna's arms, whom she was handing to Han.

"C'mon," Han whispered to the baby. "Let's meet your grandfather." He brought the baby up to Anakin, letting him look into the child's wide eyes. Like his older siblings, he didn't cry; he only stared, as if even at this young age he could sense that his grandfather meant him no harm.

"Baby Anakin," Han said, grinning.

Anakin stroked the child's head, trying to ignore how his insides still trembled at the thought of Leia and Han actually naming their baby after him.

As if the Force was guiding them, Luke and Leia took Anakin's hands and led him over to the window, followed by Han, Rianna, and even the toddlers. They all stared out at the sun sparkling over the lake as if in a dance. Even tinted red, it was beautiful.

Anakin looked over at Han, remembering how he had found that baby so long ago. What a stubborn, impossible person he had grown up into.

And Anakin owed his life to his son's stubbornness.

"Welcome home, Dad," Han said, smiling at his father.

As he looked back at the lake, his family around him, Anakin felt a strange sort of peace. The galaxy still wouldn't trust him, most people probably wouldn't accept him, he would still need to be checked by the authorities, but none of that mattered right now. Only one thought overcame him, one thought that mattered.

He was home.

THE END

AN: Well, there it is. After four years, it's FINALLY done. I'm not sure if there will be a sequel or not – I might do SOMETHING else with this timeline, but I'm not sure what yet. In the meantime, I think I'll go finish my other story "Destiny." Hope you enjoyed reading it, cause I enjoyed writing it.

Bye!


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